Cibrarp  of  Che  Theological  ^emtnarjp 

PRINCETON  • NEW  JERSEY 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 


ROBERT  ELLIOTT  SPEER 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/horaciotaleofbraOOfenn 


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HORACIO 

A Tale  of  Brazil. 


San  Francisco 

1911 


ERRATA. 

Least  said,  soonest  mended ! The  Publisher  humbly 
confesses  that  he  did  not  have  a Dictionary  in  the 
house  until  the  Book  was  half  printed ; and,  being 
Author,  Type-setter,  Proof-reader  and  Printer,  by 
lamp-light  in  the  evenings  after  days  of  toil,  he  feels 
that  no  apology  will  be  demanded  by  the  Magnani- 
mous Reader. 


Copyright,  1911,  by  R.  W.  Fenn. 


Not  to  the  richest  nor  to  the  most  famous,  but  to 
the  best  of  men — my  father. 


Happy  memories  of  sojourn  and 
peregrination,- themselves  a romance, 
woven  into  form,  set  up  in  type  and 
printed  by  myself  during  my  leisure 
hours,  so  that  a few  of  my  friends 
may  share  them  with  me,  if  they  so 
desire. 


PREFACE 

Upon  the  traveller  in  modern  Brazil  one  im- 
pression must  inevitably  be  made  by  the  scenes  and 
sounds  which  attract  his  attention.  Sixteen  hours  on 
the  train  and  a day  or  two  on  horseback  will  trans- 
port him  from  the  splendid  city  of  Sac  Paulo  to  the 
haunts  of  the  untamed,  naked  savage  with  his  blow- 
pipe and  poisoned  arrows.  The  recent  enormous  ex- 
tension of  coffee-planting  is  the  cause  of  this  unusual 
and  abnormal  contrast  of  conditions. 

While  the  Brazilian  is  generally  of  a mild  and 
genial  disposition,  the  border-land  has  produced  and 
is  still  producing  many  desperadoes  who  execute  jus- 
tice and  injustice  at  their  own  sweet  will  and  exer- 
cise the  sway  of  feudal  lords  over  wide  stretches  of 
country.  In  such  a region  the  hero  of  this  story 
lived,  loved  and  was  loved. 


1 

H 0 R A C I 0 . 


N D A ligeiro,  Horacio!  The  maca- 
cos are  in  the  milho.  Take  your  gun 
and  we’ll  have  a stew  of  the  saucy 
thieves!  ” 

A sallow  woman,  slipshod  and  slat- 
ternly, spoke  with  languid  sharpness 
to  a young  Brazilian  lad  of  fif- 
teen or  sixteen  years  who  leaned  his  elbows  on  the 
rough-hewn  table  as  he  finished  stowing  a liberal  sup- 
ply of  rice  and  beans,  sprinkled  with  farinha,  between 
his  white  teeth  with  the  blade  of  his  knife.  Wiping 
his  mouth  upon  his  sleeve,  the  young  fellow  took  down 
a light,  double-barreled,  muzzle-loading  gun  from  its 
place  on  two  pegs,  and,  throwing  a horn  of  powder  o- 
ver  his  shoulder  and  stuffing  a little  bag  of  shot  in  his 
breeches  pocket,  took  himself  off. 

The  roca  was  new,  and  the  charred  stumps  and 


2 


Horacio 


aari  trunks  still  thrust  themselves  up  from  the  green 
corn.  The  virgin  matto  grew  close  to  the  clearing  and 
the  monkeys  often  dropped  down  into  the  corn  and 
helped  themselves  with  liberal  hand.  The  lad  was  well 
used  to  this  sort  of  thing  and  crept  stealthily  amid  the 
corn  in  pursuit  of  the  thieves,  hoping  not  to  have  been 
seen  by  the  sentinel  that  hung  from  the  limb  of  a tall 
tree  in  the  edge  of  the  wood  and  gazed  warily  toward 
the  house.  The  lad  had  already  come  in  sight  of  the 
thieves  and  could  make  them  out  as  they  stripped  the 
plump  ears  from  the  stalks  and  gnawed  the  milky  grains, 
darting  stealthy  glances  from  side  to  side,  between  their 
mouthfuls,  in  fear  of  an  interruption.  Horacio  hoped  to 
reach  them,  yet,  by  crouching  low  between  the  rows 
and  get  a shot  at  them,  when  a sudden  chattering  from 
the  tree-tops  warned  him  that  he  was  discovered,  and 
a great  answering  hubbub  amid  the  corn  told  him  that 
further  concealment  was  useless.  Darting  along  be- 
tween the  rows  at  full  speed,  he  tried  to  reach  them  be- 
fore they  gained  the  shelter  of  the  forest,  but  they  were 
too  quick  for  him.  Jumping  and  climbing  up  the  swing- 
ing cipos,  laden  with  ears  of  corn  swung  over  their 
shoulders,  they  reached  the  lofty  tops  of  the  trees  and 
made  off  towards  the  depth  of  the  forest.  For  a mo- 
ment the  lad  hesitated  whether  he  should  follow  them 
or  not,  but  a trail  following  the  direction  taken  by  the 
monkeys  had  been  cleared  into  the  forest  to  obtain  tim- 
ber for  building,  and,  hoping  to  get  within  gunshot  and 
teach  the  rogues  a lesson,  he  pressed  on,  gaining  so 
much  upon  them  as  he  ran  that  he  reached  the  end  of 
the  trail  almost  in  range  of  them,  and  thus  was  induced 


Horacio 


3 


to  push  on  into  the  tangled  undergrowth,  where  his 
progress  was  much  slower  and  where  he  seen  lest 
sight  altogether  of  the  troop. 

Loth  to  return  to  the  house  without  something  for 
the  stew-pan,  and  having  little  else  to  do  at  the  time, 
he  made  his  way  farther  on  in  the  hope  of  ccmirg 
upon  a blue  inambu,  a macuco  or  a jacu.  The  under- 
growth became  more  and  more  dense  as  he  proceed- 
ed, and  he  was  soon  obliged  to  take  out  his  sheath- 
knife  and  cut  the  tangled  vines  and  branches  which 
barred  his  progress.  The  noise  made  in  this  way  pre- 
vented his  approaching  any  of  the  timider  game,  but 
presently  he  came  upon  the  well-beaten  track  of  the 
queixadas,  freshly  marked  by  their  recent  passage. 

Thrusting  his  knife  back  into  its  sheath  as  no  longer 
needed,  the  lad  followed  the  path  of  the  wild  pigs  at 
a trot.  For  an  hour  he  made  his  way  through  the 
forest  along  the  windings  of  the  trail  until,  suddenly, 
he  heard  grunting  and  trampling  in  advance  and  knew 
that  the  game  was  near.  Slackening  his  pace,  he 
crept  carefully  onward  and  soon  came  to  the  edge  of 
a little  natural  clearing  full  of  palm  trees,  whose  ripe 
nuts  lay  scattered  in  profusion  upon  the  ground. 

Here  the  queixadas  were  holding  high  festival  amid 
the  long  grass,  but  well  out  of  sight  of  Horacio. 

Knowing  the  danger  of  attacking  them  in  the  open, 
the  young  man  crept  into  cover  by  the  path  which 
they  had  followed  and  then  barked  like  a dog.  The 
clever  imitation  was  instantly  followed  by  a hush 
where  the  queixadas  were  feeding.  Horacio  barked 
again  and  immediately  there  was  a trampling  of  feet 


4 


Horacio 


in  response  and  a few  grunts  of  authority  and  in  a- 
nother  moment  the  whole  herd  was  upon  him.  Com- 
ing like  the  wind,  in  the  form  of  a half  circle  with  the 
supposed  dog  in  the  center,  the  pigs,  obeying  their 
fine  military  instinct,  preserved  their  formation  per- 
fectly as  they  closed  in  upon  their  enemy.  The  ground 
trembled  beneath  their  feet  and  the  leaves  and  bran- 
ches quivered  at  their  roaring.  It  was  a moment  to 
try  the  most  steadfast  but,  knowing  that  they  almost 
always  broke  and  fled  at  the  report  of  a fire-arm.  the 
boy  awaited  with  steady  nerves  the  appearance  of  the 
herd,  and,  as  the  first  came  in  sight  in  front  of  him, 
took  deliberate  aim  and  snapped  the  cap.  The  old 
muzzle-loader  missed  fire! 

The  angry  pigs  had  now  joined  the  ends  of  their 
circle  and  Horacio  was  in  the  center.  His  only  hope 
was  a tree.  Unfortunately  no  suitable  tree  for  climb- 
ing was  included  in  the  area  surrounded  by  the  en- 
raged queixadas.  Not  an  instant  was  to  be  lost! 

Glancing  in  despair  about  him,  all  that  re.varded 
him  was  the  sight  of  a cipo,  some  three  inches  in  di- 
ameter, which  hung  near  him.  Nine  chmces  in  ten, 
his  weight  would  bring  it  tumbling  down  from  above, - 
yet  it  was  his  on  y chance.  With  a frenzied  leap,  he 
seized  it  three  or  four  feet  above  his  head  and  drew 
up  his  limbs,  minus  one  trouser  leg,  wh:ch  fluttered 
from  the  tusk  of  an  irate  boar. 

For  a wonder,  the  cipo  held.  He  clung  tighter  and 
glanced  up: — fifty  feet  of  vine,  like  an  immense  smooth 
cable,  reached  to  the  first  branches  of  the  great  tree 
from  which  it  swung.  His  gun  lay  upon  the  ground, 


Horacio 


5 


already  trampled  out  of  shape  by  the  herd.  His  hat 
had  remained  behind  also. 

Hand  over  hand,  Horacio  ascended  until  he  reach- 
ed the  level  of  this  limb, — then,  swinging  slowly  from 
side  to  side  on  the  cipo,  he  finally  succeeded  in  throw- 
ing a leg  over  the  limb  and  seating  himself  upon  it. 

The  queixadas  moved  uneasily  about  beneath  him, 
snuffing  the  air  and  protesting  with  angry  grunts  at 
his  escape  as  they  gazed  up  at  his  swinging  legs  from 
below.  Some  of  them  vented  their  rage  by  tearing  at 
the  bark  of  the  tree  with  their  great  white  tusks  un- 
til they  had  stripped  it  bare,  as  high  as  they  could 
reach,  and  cut  deep  into  the  wood  itself.  There  was 
no  danger  from  such  an  attack  as  this,  for  the  tree 
was  much  too  great,  but  it  quiveped  to  its  utmost  twig 
and  leaf  with  the  furious  ons  aught. 

Picking  pieces  of  bark  and  great  masses  of  orchids 
from  the  limbs  near  him,  he  cast  them  down  at  the 
wild  p’gs,  abusing  them  the  while  with  his  choicest 
selections  from  the  Brazilian  vocabulary. 

“Ah,  patifes!  Shameless  rogues!  Ah,  swine  with- 
out respect!  Ah,  sons  of  such  an  one!  Where  is  my 
gun,  now?  Take  this — and  render  me  my  fine  gun! 
Ah,  malvados,  malucos,  sem  vergonhas: — ye  have  beat- 
en it  out  of  all  shape  and  usefulness.  Take  this,  and 
this, — and  know  that  I have  wherewithal  to  buy  me  a 
better  one,  with  which  I will  persecute  ye  until  there 
is  no  peace  in  the  forest!” 

Tiring  soon,  however,  of  this  mode  of  venting  his 
anger,  Horacio  began  to  look  about  him.  Night  would 
soon  be  upon  him,  for  the  sun  was  already  fast  sink- 


6 


Horacio 


ing  to  rest  amid  heavy  black  clouds.  The  lad  sought 
to  determine  the  point  upon  the  horizon  where  the 
sun  should  mark  the  west,  in  order  that  he  might  be 
able  to  make  his  way  back  in  the  darkness,  but  it 
was  already  too  late  and  the  forest  too  thick  for  him 
to  make  out  the  waning  glow.  He  remembered  that 
the  queixadas  might  not  leave  him  for  days,  sending 
detachments  of  the  herd  to  feed  while  the  rest  kept 
guard. 

Well, — they  could  not  keep  a monkey  prisoner  in 
the  trees,  and  why  should  they  keep  him?  He  would 
pass  from  tree  to  tree  until  he  escaped  them. 

Looking  up,  he  searched  for  a limb  which  might 
serve  as  a bridge  to  another  tree.  It  was  too  dark 
for  him  to  be  certain,  but  he  thought  that  he  saw  one, 
and  made  his  way  to  it,  only  to  be  disappointed. 

Hour  after  hour  he  clambered  about  until  his  hands 
were  bleeding  and  his  strength  was  almost  exhausted 
and,  finally,  the  full  moon  burst  forth  from  the  clouds 
and  shewed  him  that  there  was  no  limb  strong  enough 
to  bear  his  weight  that  would  bring  him  to  another 
tree.  Discouraged  and  disheartened  he  sank  into  one 
of  the  lower  forks  of  the  tree  in  a mass  of  moss  and 
parasites,  disturbing  a tree-toad  and  a lizard  and  be- 
coming quickly  covered  with  angry  and  venomous 
ants. 

Taking  his  departure  quickly,  he  sought  a better 
refuge  and,  having  settled  himself  comfortably  in  it  to 
sleep  found  that  the  mosquitos  which  had  only  mildly 
tormented  him  while  he  was  moving  about,  had  now 
gathered  over  him  in  such  clouds  that  all  hope  of  sleep 


Horacio 


7 


was  an  absurdity. 

The  moon  was  by  this  time  shining  brightly  and  the 
heavy  clouds  had  scattered  far  and  wide.  He  looked 
about  for  a familiar  star  but  could  make  none  out 
through  the  thick  branches  of  the  trees.  The  queix- 
adas  still  tramped  sullenly  about  beneath  the  tree, 
sniffing  the  air  from  time  to  time  to  get  scent  of  him, 
and  he  could  see  them  readily  in  the  bright  moon- 
light. 

Suddenly,  there  was  a commotion  among  them  and, 
looking  down,  he  saw  them,  with  evident  signs  of  ter- 
ror, forming  themselves  into  a solid  phalanx  and  in- 
tently watching  a dense  clump  of  underbrush  at  a lit- 
tle distance. 

Horacio’s  eyes  followed  the  direction  and  instantly  he 
divined  the  cause  of  their  alarm.  From  out  the  thick- 
et two  bright  yellow  balls  of  fire  gleamed  like  two 
little  lamps. 

“Ha,  ha!”  chuckled  the  lad,  gleefully:  “ha,  ha! — ye 
shameless  porcada!  Senhora  Onca  will  play  with  ye! 
I wager  money  that  she  will  even  breakfast  with  ye’.’ 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  he  could  see  the  eyes  of 
the  jaguar  move  a bit,  and  now  he  could  hear  the 
brush  crackle  as  she  threshed  her  tail  angrily  from 
side  to  side: — then  the  lamps  changed  their  position 
and,  presently,  he  could  see  the  dark  form  of  the  jag- 
uar gliding  stealthily  around  the  herd,  which  followed 
her  every  movement  with  a bristling  front  of  gleam- 
ing tusks. 

Evidently  Mistress  Onca  had  little  liking  to  pay  the 
cost  of  her  breakfast! 


8 


Horacio 


But — of  a sudden — there  was  a slight  scattering  of 
the  leaves,  a roar  of  expectancy  from  the  herd,  and 
a dark  bunch  passed  through  the  air  and  over  the 
heads  of  the  front  ranks,  falling  full  upon  the  backs 
of  those  that  were  behind. 

With  one  blow  of  her  powerful  paw,  the  beautiful 
animal  broke  the  back  of  a great  hog  and,  burying 
her  teeth  in  its  neck,  she  tossed  it  over  her  should- 
er and  in  an  instant  would  have  been  away,  had  not 
a fierce  boar  sunk  a tusk  in  her  flank.  With  a scream 
of  pain  and  fury  she  dropped  the  carcass  of  the  queix- 
ada  and  turned  upon  her  foes. 

Horacio  could  see  every  movement  from  his  perch 
above— -for  they  had  long  since  trampled  the  ground 
smooth,  and  cleared  it  of  brush — and  the  moon  shone 
brightly  upon  the  scene. 

Over  and  over  rolled  the  great  cat,  casting  her  foes 
from  her  and  ripping  great  strips  of  flesh  from  them 
with  her  claws,  or  breaking  their  backs  with  tremen- 
dous blows.  The  forest  resounded  with  the  noise  of 
battle,  and  the  birds  and  the  beasts  that  had  been 
sleeping  awoke  and  fled  in  terror  from  the  spot. 

It  seemed  an  hour  that  the  furious  combat  lasted, 
but  it  could  not  have  been  more  than  ten  minutes. 
All  became  silent  at  length  and  the  boy  could  make 
out  a dark  heap  of  queixadas  piled  upon  the  beauti- 
ful striped  mass  of  fur  which  was  all  that  was  left  of 
the  monarch  of  the  South  American  forests.  About 
the  pile  of  slain,  the  remnants  of  the  herd  tramped, 
rooting  and  nosing  the  heap  to  see  if  there  was  yet 
any  life  in  their  fierce  enemy. 


Horacio 


9 


The  lad  was  again  seized  with  anger.  “Will  ye  be 
gone,  miseraveis?”  he  cried,  casting  pieces  of  bark  at 
them.  “Have  ye  not  had  enough?  Wretched  scum 
of  the  earth!  Porcada  sem  vergonha!” 

The  queixadas  looked  up  enquiringly  at  the  lad  and, 
as  if  remembering  that  there  was  still  a feud  to  set- 
tle, disposed  themselves  again  for  the  siege. 

Now  the  lad  regretted  that  he  had  so  thoughtlessly 
spoken,  for,  otherwise,  they  might  have  gone  away  and 
left  him  free  to  come  down  at  break  of  day. 

The  sun  came  upon  the  scene  at  length,  so  that 
he  might  note  the  relative  direction  of  the  limb  upon 
which  he  sat  for  a guide  to  serve  him  in  case  the  sun 
became  obscured.  Not  a cloud  was  in  the  sky  and 
soon  the  vultures  circled  overhead.  Wheeling  around 
and  down  from  the  vast  upper  regions  of  the  air, 
their  numbers  were  gradually  increased  until  at  least 
a hundred  big  black  carrion-birds  were  describing 
great  arcs  above  the  tree-tops.  Soon  they  settled  up- 
on the  ground  here  and  there,  but  the  queixadas  drove 
them  away.  At  this  they  perched  upon  the  limbs  of 
trees  and  cocked  their  great  yellow  orbs  at  the  feast, 
as  though  to  say: — “We  wait,  ’tis  true,  but — the  fla- 
vor improves  with  waiting.  All  things  come  to  him 
who  waits.” 

The  day  wore  on  and  the  flies  gathered  on  the  car- 
casses until  they  made  a great  humming  and  buzzing 
in  the  sun.  They  also  annoyed  the  queixadas,  which 
stamped  their  feet  and  switched  their  stumpy  tails  im- 
patiently, but  they  would  not  leave  the  place. 

In  the  tree  above,  the  gnats  took  the  place  of  the 


10 


Horacio 


long-legged  pests  of  the  night  and  swarmed  about  a 
weary,  hungry,  sleepy  lad  of  sixteen  who  seemed  to 
be  the  center  of  interest  for  some  forty  or  more  great 
pigs,  some  of  which  bore  the  marks  of  the  recent 
fray  in  great  slashes  of  the  jaguar’s  claws,  while  one 
or  two  crouched  apart  with  broken  limbs. 

By  afternoon  the  stench  from  the  carcasses  was 
very  great,  but  the  others  would  not  leave  them. 

Horacio  passed  another  sleepless  night  in  the  tree 
and  saw  another  cloudless  m rnning  dawn.  His  thirst 
was  now  become  very  considerable,  although  he  had 
partially  quenched  it  from  time  to  time  by  sucking 
sap  from  the  branches  and  small  vines  about  him. 
Weak  with  hunger  and  wearied  by  the  constant  at- 
tack of  the  mosquitos,  he  cut  some  cipos  and  bound 
himself  to  the  tree  in  order  that  he  might  not  fall. 
Rescue  he  did  not  expect,  as  his  father  was  absent 
and  his  mother  alone  upon  the  place, — her  nearest 
neighbor  being  five  leagues  away. 

It  was  about  eleven  o’clock  when,  of  a sudden,  the 
herd  pricked  up  its  ears,  stirred  uneasily  about,  and 
then  fell  upon  its  wouided  and,  having  despatched 
them  in  an  instant,  made  off  through  the  forest  at  a 
rapid  trot.  A moment  later  the  vultures  descended 
and  fell  upon  the  putrid  flesh. 

Horacio,  cutting  the  withes  that  bound  him,  clam- 
bered, slipping  and  falling,  to  the  ground  and,  quick- 
ly hacking  strips  of  flesh  from  the  queixadas  which 
had  been  slain  by  their  comrades,  ate  the  raw  meat 
eagerly  and  hungrily  until  his  gorge  rose  at  it  and  he 
could  eat  no  more.  He  then  sought  his  gun,  finding 


Horacio 


1 1 


it  so  twisted  and  bent  as  to  be  of  no  use.  Casting 
it  from  him  with  a malediction,  he  took  his  bearing, 
and  started  for  home  with  a bit  of  meat  slung  over 
his  shoulder. 

Confident  that  he  had  followed  a general  southerly 
course,  he  now  sought  to  keep  well  toward  the  north, 
knowing  that  he  ought  soon  to  come  on  some  clear- 
ing. Hour  after  hour  he  journeyed,  keeping  well  to 
his  course,  but  came  to  no  clearing,  and,  so  far  as  he 
could  tell,  only  penetrated  deeper  than  ever  into  the 
forest. 

Finally,  he  came  to  a stop  and  sat  down  to  rest. 
The  flies  buzzed  about  the  meat  that  he  was  carry- 
ing and  the  odor  told  him  that  it  would  not  last  long. 
Gathering  dry  sticks,  he  struck  a spark  with  his  flint 
and  steel,  and  blew  it  into  a flame.  Preparing  a spit, 
the  meat  was  soon  roasted  and  he  made  a hearty 
meal,  reserving  enough  for  the  morrow  in  case  of  be- 
ing obliged  to  spend  another  night  in  the  forest.  Hav- 
ing dined  heartily,  he  stretched  himself  near  his  fire 
upon  the  ground  to  rest  a moment,  and  fell  asleep. 

When  he  awoke,  the  rain  was  falling  upon  his  up- 
turned face  and  the  forest  was  as  dark  as  Egypt.  The 
lad  sprang  to  his  feet  and  looked  about  him  for  a 
shelter,  which  was  hard  to  find  in  the  darkness.  Re- 
membering his  breakfast,  at  last,  he  went  to  the  cipo 
from  which  it  had  been  suspended,  only  to  find  that 
it  was  gone:  some  four-legged  thief  having  made  off 
with  it  while  he  slept. 

It  was  now  impossible  to  light  a fire  or  procure  a 
light,  for  the  matto  was  already  damp  and  the  rain 


12 


Horacio 


falling  faster  and  faster.  After  vainly  hunting  for  a 
shelter  from  the  storm  for  some  time,  Horacio  sat 
down  upon  the  ground  with  his  back  against  a tree 
and  let  the  rain  fall — as  he  could  do  no  otherwise. 
Fortunately,  it  was  not  cold,  although — after  the  rain 
had  thoroughly  drenched  him — the  weather  changed, 
and  it  became  slightly  cooler. 

Thus  the  night  passed  and  the  morning  brought  no 
cessation  of  the  rain.  As  soon  as  it  was  light,  the 
boy  was  on  his  feet.  Now  he  knew,  at  last,  that  he 
was  lost,  for  he  had  not  even  the  sun  to  guide  him 
and  could  not  guess  where  he  was.  All  the  little 
woodcraft  he  knew  was  brought  to  bear  and  all  his 
quick  natural  intelligence,  but  he  could  only  trust  to 
chance  and,  by  setting  out  at  random,  hope  to  come 
at  last  to  some  clearing.  This  hope,  however,  was 
slim,  indeed,  for  there  were  almost  no  other  clearings 
between  his  home  and  the  untracked  wilderness. 

All  day  he  pushed  forward,  finding  only  a few  bit- 
ter plums  for  his  hungry  stomach’s  satisfaction.  Wa- 
ter to  drink  he  had  when  he  wished  it  by  the  mere 
throwing  back  of  his  head  and  opening  his  mouth. 

When  night  came  he  was  somewhere,  but  all  that 
he  knew  was  that  this  somewhere  was  elsewhere,  in 
other  words,  that  he  was  not  where  he  had  passed 
the  previous  night.  He  knew,  also,  that  his  other 
trouser  leg  was  gone  and  that  his  bare  limbs  were 
bruised  and  cut  and  bitten  with  insects,  and  that  he 
was  very,  very  hungry. 

“Who  sleeps,  dines,”  but  who  eats,  is  better  satis- 
fied. Arranging  a shelter  of  leaves,  ere  the  light  left 


Horacio 


13 


him,  the  lad  threw  himself  upon  the  ground  and  slept 
the  troubled  sleep  of  weary  hunger.  The  morning 
dawned  cloudless.  The  sun  soon  rose  and  the  jungle 
reeked  and  steamed.  The  wet  heat,  after  the  rain, 
brought  the  perspiration  from  every  pore  and  made 
the  wanderer  faint  and  languid. 

Knowing  that,  however  far  he  might  be  to  the  north 
or  south,  traveling  east  would  ultimately  bring  him  to 
the  clearings,  Horacio  determined  to  keep  his  face 
steadfastly  in  that  direction. 

About  noon  he  came  upon  some  more  plums  and 
stayed  his  gnawing  hunger.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
forest,  as  if  knowing  that  he  had  no  gun,  sported  a- 
bout  on  every  side  in  the  most  perfect  confidence. 
Once  he  flung  his  knife  at  a ’coon,  but  missed  him. 
Again  and  again  he  tried  to  bring  down  a jacu  with 
a stone,  but  lacked  dexterity.  Of  the  sling  he  knew 
nothing  and  could  not  have  used  it  had  he  known 
how  to  prepare  one.  With  the  bow  and  arrow  he 
was  tolerably  expert,  and,  as  he  made  his  way  through 
the  forest,  he  came  suddenly  upon  an  arrow,  tipped 
with  feathers  and  pointed  with  bone,  lying  in  the  path 
of  the  anta:  for  these  great  animals  leave  broad  trails 
where  their  custom  is  to  come  and  go  to  their  lairs. 

Startled  at  the  sight  of  the  arrow,  Horacio  looked 
closely  at  the  ground  and  found  both  the  trail  of  the 
great  tapir,  and,  also,  the  footprints  of  a dozen  sav- 
ages upon  it.  Evidently  he  had  made  many  leagues 
to  the  west! 

Resuming  his  journey,  he  now  kept  his  eyes  open 
for  a suitable  bit  of  wood  for  a bow,  and  soon  came 


H 


Horacio 


upon  such  a piece  as  he  desired.  Roughly  shaping 
this  to  his  purpose  with  his  knife,  he  set  about  the 
manufacture  of  a string  for  his  bow.  He  now  regret- 
ted that  he  had  not  kept  the  tendons  of  one  of  the 
pigs  for  this  purpose,  but,  not  knowing  how  long  he 
would  be  from  home,  he  had  not  thought  of  it. 

Selecting  fibers  from  a vine — which  he  knew  were 
tough  and  strong— he  twisted  them  on  his  knee  as  he 
had  often  twisted  fishing-lines  and,  presently,  strung 
his  bow  and,  laying  the  arrow  against  the  cord,  drew 
it  back  to  the  point  and  then  relaxed  it;  wearied  in 
his  weakness  by  the  effort. 

Having  thus  provided  himself  with  a weapon,  and 
the  forest  growth  being  now  dry,  he  made  his  way 
as  rapidly  as  he  could  toward  the  east,  doing  as  little 
cutting  and  slashing  at  the  vines  and  brush  as  poss- 
ible in  order  that  he  might  not  disturb  the  game,  and 
also  that  he  might  spare  his  strength  and  his  bleed- 
ing and  blistered  hands. 

As  if  in  mockery  of  his  necessities,  the  feathered 
and  four-footed  denizens  of  the  forest,  which  had  hith- 
erto thrown  themselves  in  his  way,  now  kept  their 
distance  or  kept  out  of  sight  altogether,  and  it  was  al- 
most night  ere  a jacu  gave  him  a fair  mark.  The 
winged  shaft  sped  on  its  way  and  pierced  the  fowl  in 
the  neck.  'Arrow  and  bird  were  soon  in  the  hands 
of  the  famished  lad.  Drawing  the  precious  arrow 
carefully  from  its  neck,  Horacio  lit  a fire  and  in  a few 
moments  was  gnawing  at  the  half  raw  flesh. 

It  was  dark  ere  he  had  finished,  but  the  work  was 
well  done, — not  an  atom  worth  consuming  being  left 


Horacio 


15 


upon  the  bones. 

Strengthened  and  encouraged,  the  boy  stretched 
himself  upon  the  ground  by  the  fire  to  rest.  Instant- 
ly he  was  upon  his  feet  again,  with  his  hand  upon  his 
heart: — the  sound  of  a horn  not  far  distant  fell  upon 
his  ears! 

Convinced  by  this  time  that  he  must  be  well  within 
the  borders  of  the  untamed  bugres,  he  felt  sure  that 
it  could  be  naught  else  than  the  Indians.  What  was 
the  meaning  of  the  blast,  he  did  not  know: — it  might 
be  war,  or  festivities,  or  a hunt:  but  he  was  not  in- 
clined to  investigate,  so,  throwing  green  leaves  upon 
his  fire  to  smother  the  flames,  he  seized  his  bow  and 
single  arrow  and  made  off  as  fast  as  he  could  in  a 
direction  opposite  to  that  from  whence  came  the  sound 
of  the  horn;  which,  after  being  repeated  a half  dozen 
times,  was  lost  in  the  distance. 

Pushing  on  for  an  hour  longer,  he  finally  thought 
to  rest,  when — the  sound  of  the  horn  again  fell  upon 
his  ears,  this  time  directly  in  front.  Horacio  was  at 
last  thoroughly  uneasy;  fearing  that  he  had  worked 
his  way  into  the  midst  of  the  savages:  so — weary  and 
beaten  about  by  branches  and  trees,  and  hardly  dar- 
ing to  use  his  knife  to  open  a way  for  himself — he 
stumbled  on  in  the  moonlight,  in  a direction  diagonal 
to  that  which  he  had  followed. 

After  an  hour’s  painful  journey,  he  paused  again, 
and  flung  himself  upon  the  ground,  too  weary  to  be 
disturbed  by  the  mosquitos  that  covered  his  nearly 
naked  body  or  even  to  care  whether  he  lived  or  died. 

He  was  awakened  at  length  by  a cold  nose  in  his 


16 


Horacio 


face  and  sprang  to  his  feet  in  sudden  alarm.  The 
light  of  flickering  torches  dazzled  his  eyes,  which  were 
still  heavy  with  sleep. 

“Found  at  last,  my  caboclinho  a toa!”  said  his  fath- 
er’s voice,  and  the  man  drew  him  into  a warm  em- 
brace ere  he  could  realize  what  had  happened.  A 
couple  of  great  hounds  sprang  joyfully  upon  him  and 
a half  dozen  neighbors  came  up  one  by  one  and  clasp- 
ed the  boy  in  their  arms  in  friendly  embraces  with 
quick  little  reciprocal  pats  on  the  shoulders. 

“Thou  art,  indeed,  a sad  sight  to  see  and  yet  one 
that  rejoices  my  heart,”  and  the  father  strained  the 
son  again  to  his  breast.  “Thou  hast  traveled  far.  Two 
days  have  we  followed  thee  with  the  dogs.  We  had 
found  thee  sooner  had  not  the  rain  washed  thy  scent 
from  the  ground.  But— -the  Virgin  be  praised! — we 
crossed  it  again  when  thou  wert  turned  toward  home. 

“But,  comet — pull  thyself  together,  if  thou  canst  and 
we  will  sleep  at  home.  Thou  art  half  starved!  Take 
a pull  at  this  cacha?a!” 

The  boy  drank  greedily  and,  coughing  as  the  hot 
liquor  brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes,  found  his  voice 
at  last. 

“How  is  that?  Sleep  at  home?”  he  cried,  wonder- 
ingly. 

“Why  not?”  replied  the  older  man,  “thou  canst  al- 
most see  the  clearing  from  this  spot.  It  lies  here, — 
about  two  hundred  paces  off.” 

Horacio  stared  in  amazement.  “I  thought — ”he  ex- 
claimed, then  laughed  aloud,  and  ended  by  bursting 
into  a wild  fit  of  sobbing  which  came  to  him  in  his 


Horacio 


17 


nervous  condition  with  the  reaction. 

To  think  that  he  had  wandered  for  five  days  in  the 
woods  and  was  now  fallen  exhausted  at  his  own  door 
without  knowing  it ! The  morning  might  have  seen 
him  making  off  again  into  the  forest,  none  the  wiser, 
had  they  not  come  upon  him  where  he  lay. 

Choking  back  the  nervous,  hysterical  sobs,  the  lad 
struggled  lamely  to  his  feet  and  set  out  for  the  house, 
followed  by  the  men,  all  talking  of  the  strange  hap- 
pening, chaffing  the  boy  and  congratulating  one  anoth- 
er on  the  happy  outcome  of  their  quest. 

In  a few  moments  they  broke  out  into  the  clearing 
and  the  humble  cabin  was  the  gladdest  sight  that  had 
ever  been  seen  by  a tired  boy.  Faint  and  famished, 
he  fell  into  the  arms  of  his  mother,  and  then  drop- 
ped asleep  in  a corner  and  would  scarce  awake  to 
take  the  stew  of  chicken  and  the  mess  of  rice  and 
beans  which  the  good  woman  set  before  the  hungry 
men. 

“Que  bobo  !”  said  one,  laughing,  “what  a ninny!  On- 
ly to  think  that  he  had  laid  him  down  out  there  be- 
yond the  corn  a bit,  to  sleep  ! Why  didst  thou  not 
come  home  to  thy  mother,  lad  ?” 

The  boy  flushed  and  murmured  something  under 
his  breath. 

“And  what  of  the  horns  we  blew  ? Didst  thou  not 
hear  them  ?”  asked  another. 

“Ay,  what  of  the  horns,  lad  ?”  said  his  father,  rest- 
ing his  elbows  upon  the  table,  as  he  stopped  for  a 
minute  in  his  work  of  stripping  a drumstick  and  look- 
ed enquiringly  at  the  boy. 


18 


Horacio 


“I  thought  the  bugres  blew  them,”  stammered  the 
lad,  flushing  up  again.  A roar  of  laughter  came  from 
all  the  men. 

“Ah,  that  is  good ! Bugres,  indeed  ! There  are  none 
nigher  than  the  Rio  Feio,”  said  one. 

“Then  I was  at  the  Rio  Feio,”  said  the  boy,  angri- 
ly, “for  I found  this  in  the  trail  of  the  anta,  with  the 
marks  of  a dozen  pairs  of  naked  feet  beside  it,”  and 
he  reached  down  and  lifted  the  arrow  from  the  dirt 
floor  where  it  had  fallen  and  laid  it  upon  the  table, 
where  it  was  immediately  seized  upon  and  passed  from 
hand  to  hand.  An  ominous  silence  fell  upon  the 
group. 

“So  the  Indians  are  come  this  way  again  with  war 
arrows,”  said  one,  at  length. 

“May  the  Saints  preserve  us  on  the  Border  if  there 
is  trouble  again,”  said  another. 

“May  the  devil  rather  take  the  miscreants  who  have 
stirred  them  up,  friend  Theophilo !”  cried  the  father 
of  Horacio,  throwing  the  arrow  down  upon  the  table 
violently. 

“ ’Tis  the  old  question  of  the  Brazilian  stirring  up 
a fight  to  find  an  excuse  for  stealing  the  bugre’s  land. 
We  are  a bad  set  all  around,  but  I for  one,  Jose  An- 
tonio de  Castro, — have  no  part  nor  sympathy  with 
them,”  replied  Theophilo,  rising,  going  to  the  door, 
and  looking  out.  “The  weather  holds.  We  would 
best  be  off !” 

“What, — to-night  ? There  is  no  call  to  go  to-night.” 

“Why  not  ? The  weather  is  clear : our  horses  are 
fresh  : we  would  best  be  home.” 


Horacio 


19 


With  that  he  disappeared  in  the  outer  darkness, 
where  his  neighbors  soon  joined  him  and  in  a few 
moments  their  horses  were  crunching  corn  on  the  ear 
in  the  trough  by  the  door,  preparatory  to  their  jour- 
ney. The  men  lingered  by  the  fire  to  chat  and  ex- 
change surmises  as  to  the  probabilities  of  a hostile 
visit  from  the  Indians.  All  agreed  that  a general  at- 
tack was  not  likely,  but  all  were  satisfied  as  to  the 
advisability  of  keeping  on  the  alert  against  ambuscade 
and  treachery. 

Horacio  had  already  been  asleep  for  some  time  upon 
a mattress  of  corn-husks  when  the  rescue  party  at 
last  took  its  departure,  and  soon  the  burning  rag  in 
the  copper  dish  of  castor  oil  which  hung  from  a hook 
and  served  for  a lamp  was  extinguished  and  the  house 
became  silent  and  dark. 


2 

ANNA. 


T was  nearly  noon  the  next  day 
when  the  boy  awoke  with  aching 
limbs  and  fierce  hunger.  Gulping 
down  the  cup  of  black  coffee  that 
his  mother  handed  him,  he  stum- 
bled to  the  door  and  looked  forth 
on  a day  of  brilliant  promise. 

His  eyes  roamed  over  the  little  plantation  with  a- 
vid  pleasure.  He  noted  the  long  green  stretch  of  wav- 
ing tasseled  corn,  with  pumpkins  growing  between  the 
rows ; the  beans  on  the  right  and  the  mandioca  near 
the  house.  Far  away  on  the  hill-top  could  be  seen 
the  dark  green  of  the  coffee,  with  the  mamao  rising 
here  and  there  above  it. 

This  was  home  and  homely  labor,  and  he  knew  that 
even  now  the  growing  crops  were  needing  his  strong 
young  arm.  Then  his  eye  fell  upon  the  long  dark  line 
of  the  forest,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  fierce  anger : 


Anna 


21 


he  remembered  like  a hideous  dream,  all  that  he  had 
suffered,  and  how  he  had  come  to  lie  down  in  des- 
pair at  the  threshold  of  the  clearing — perhaps  to  die. 
He  remembered  also  the  rough  chaffing  of  the  neigh- 
bors and  something  swelled  in  his  throat,  on  which 
he  swallowed  hard.  A mist  swam  before  his  eyes 
and  little  prickly  flashes  of  anger  ran  over  his  body. 
His  mother  called  and  he  turned  silently  to  the  house 
and  attacked — as  though  to  vent  the  bitterness  of  his 
spirit — the  abundant  breakfast  which  she  had  set  out 
upon  the  table. 

Having  eaten  ravenously — without  a word— he  went 
out  and  shortly  returned  with  his  horse,  which  he  tied 
to  the  trough  and  fed  with  ears  of  corn.  Reentering 
the  house,  he  went  to  the  little  hiding-place  of  his  pe- 
culiar treasures  and  took  out  a bunch  of  dirty  paper 
money,  which  he  counted  upon  his  knee — two  hun- 
dred and  forty  milreis- — the  price  of  furs  which  the 
old  gun  and  his  traps  had  brought  him. 

This  was  his  treasure,  hoarded  for  the  purchase  of 
a new  and  better  gun.  Many  times  during  the  accum- 
ulation of  the  little  fund,  he  had  seen  this  breech- 
loading gun  before  the  eyes  of  his  imagination,  with 
its  inlaid  silver  figures  and  its  Damascus  barrels,  just 
as  he  had  seen  it  in  the  window  of  the  shop  in  Jahu. 
He  hoped  that  it  might  still  be  there,  yet — if  not,  he 
knew  that  there  were  others  like  it. 

His  mother  came  to  him  as  he  stood  in  the  door- 
way. “Thy  father  said  to  take  the  enxadao  and  go 
to  the  cafezal,  Horacio.” 

“Where  is  my  father  ?”  the  boy  answered,  shortly. 


22 


Horacio 


His  mother  started  at  the  tone  of  his  voice.  There 
was  a quality  there  which  was  new  to  her  and  she 
did  not  recognize  the  lad  who  had  followed  the  mon- 
keys into  the  matto  a few  days  before. 

“He  has  gone  to  Augustinho’s  to  fetch  the  children. 
He  ought  to  be  back  by  this  time,  for  he  went  with 
Augustinho,  last  night.” 

Horacio  took  his  saddle  from  a peg  on  the  wall  and 
limped  to  the  door,  saying  as  he  went: 

“Tell  him  I have  gone  to  Jahu  to  get  me  a gun. 
I am  too  sore  to  work  to-day.  Besides,  I have  struck 
a hoe  into  the  ground  for  the  last  time.  Remem- 
brances to  the  children!  Adeus!  Until  to-morrow,  if 
God  wills  and,  if  not — until  the  day  after!” 

The  mother  looked  after  him  as  he  flung  the  sad- 
dle upon  his  horse  and  rode  off, — sighed  and  went 
back  to  her  work,  too  well  accustomed  to  have  no 
voice  in  the  family  affairs,  after  the  manner  of  many 
Brazilian  women,  to  interpose  objection  or  suggestion. 

The  town  of  Jahu  lay  more  than  a dozen  Brazilian 
leagues  away,  but  Horacio  knew  that  he  could  make 
the  fifty  miles  easily  before  night,  although  he  had 
not  reckoned  on  the  condition  of  his  sore  and  weary 
body.  Nevertheless,  he  pushed  on  and,  in  spite  of 
aches  and  pains,  reached  the  town  at  eight  in  the  even- 
ing and  drew  rein  before  his  uncle’s  door,  an  humble 
little  house  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  All  was 
silent  within  and  the  only  light  visible  was  that  which 
found  its  way  through  some  chinks  in  the  wall. 

“Oh,  the  house!”  he  called,  and  clapped  his  hands. 

No  sign  of  life  evidenced  that  his  call  was  heard,  so 


Anna 


23 


he  repeated  it  in  louder  tones.  At  the  second  call  a 
shuffling  step  was  heard  and  an  old  woman  unbarred 
the  door  and  looked  out  into  the  night. 

“Good  evening !”  cried  Horacio,  “Is  my  good  uncle, 
Sor  Henrique,  at  home?” 

“May  the  Saints  preserve  us ! Tis  Horacio  ! Art 
thou  well  ? Are  all  well  at  home  ? We  are  in  sad 
times  here.  Anna  and  I have  just  finished  the  rosary 
for  the  repose  of  his  soul— -for  we  have  no  money 
for  masses.  Thy  poor  uncle  was  buried  yesterday,— 
God  rest  him  ! I came  to  keep  Anna  company  until 
we  can  dispose  of  her  in  some  other  way.  But  dis- 
mount ! Dismount  and  enter ! What  a clatter-jaw  I 
am  to  leave  the  poor  fellow  a sitting  there  and  me 
a talking  and  a talking.” 

At  this  moment  a young  girl  of  some  fourteen  years 
approached  the  door  from  within  and,  looking  over 
the  garrulous  old  woman’s  shoulder,  gravely  saluted 
Horacio.  The  lad,  all  taken  aback  by  the  nev  s of  his 
uncle’s  death,  slipped  from  the  saddle  and  led  his 
horse  through  a little  side  gate  which  Donna  Brigida 
opened  for  him,  and,  having  removed  the  saddle  and 
supplied  him  with  corn,  entered  the  house  with  clank- 
ing spurs  on  his  bare  heels  trailing  across  the  wood- 
en floors. 

Shaking  hands  with  both  women,  he  fell— rather 
than  sat— upon  the  bench  which  was  offered  him  and 
awd  glanced  about  the  dimly  lighted  room. 

A long  counter  ran  its  length  in  the  middle,  and  a- 
gainst  the  walls  were  shelves  on  which  were  pack- 
ages of  matches,  tins  of  goibada,  little  round  white 


24 


Horacio 


cheeses,  and  all  the  various  small  matters  which  sup- 
ply the  ordinary  needs  of  the  Brazilian  household.  A 
few  dirty  bottles  made  up  the  list  and  a small  barrel 
on  a stand  explained  the  presence  of  some  upturned 
glasses  upon  a tin  draining-tray. 

Over  against  the  tray,  upon  the  whitewashed  wall, 
could  still  be  seen  the  score  of  some  regular  custom- 
ers, pencilled  on  the  uneven  surface,  and  represent- 
ing the  only  attempts  at  book-keeping  of  the  deceas- 
ed merchant. 

It  was  a small  venda,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
things,  and  served  also  as  a common  sitting-room. 
Behind  it  were  a couple  of  sleeping-rooms  and  a small 
lean-to  kitchen.  All  this  was  a common  enough  sight 
to  Horacio,  who  had  often  visited  his  uncle,  his  only 
remaining  relative,  excepting  those  of  the  immediate 
family  circle. 

Donna  Brigida  was  already  blowing  the  embers  in- 
to a blaze  in  the  fogao  and  called  to  him  to  know  if 
he  had  dined.  Upon  receiving  a negative  reply,  she 
proceeded  with  her  work  and  soon  could  be  heard 
moving  pots  and  kettles  about  over  the  blaze. 

Anna  sat  listlessly  on  a stool  in  the  front  room,  im- 
mersed in  thought  or  drowsy  with  fatigue.  Present- 
ly Horacio  spoke. 

“What  ailed  Tio  Henrique  ?”  he  asked. 

“It  is  not  known,”  replied  the  girl,  in  a clear  sweet 
voice,  rousing  herself  upon  the  stool  and  looking  up 
at  him.  “He  had  been  ailing  some  time.  First  he 
would  say  it  was  his  spleen  and  then  his  liver : pre- 
sently it  was  his  kidneys  and  then  his  heart.  Alas, 


Anna 


25 


God  rest  him ! — it  would  seem  that  he  was  all  gone 
wrong  inside.  So  he  took  tea  of  one  thing  and  tea  of 
another,  but  got  no  better.  Alas,  alas, — how  the  poor 
man  suffered ! 

“At  last  he  went  to  Doctor  Pereira,  who  gave  him 
a long  prescription  of  a most  ill-smelling  and  costly 
stuff,  and,  as  that  did  him  no  good,  the  next  day  he 
went  to  Doctor  Alcides,  who  gave  him  another,  and 
that  did  him  no  manner  of  good  either,  so  he  went 
to  Doctor  da  Costa.  Oh,  the  pain  of  it ! Each  re- 
cipe cost  him  five  milreis  to  write  and  five  more  to 
buy,  and  he  died  with  the  third.  Alas,  he  was  a good 
man  ! — although  a bit  careful  with  his  money.  What 
shall  I do,  Horacio  ? I have  no  where  to  go  !” 

“Yes,  poor  soul,”  said  the  old  woman,  appearing  at 
the  door,  “although  Sor  Henrique — God  rest  him  ! — 
was  no  kin  to  her,  yet  for  his  woman’s  sake  he  al- 
ways took  care  of  her.  I’ll  take  her  to  Father  Joao 
to-morrow,  for  the  house  goes  to  thy  father  and  there 
is  nothing  else. 

“Father  Joao  was  here  to  see  him  die,  and  staid 
with  the  corpse  all  night.  He  is  no  ordinary  man, 
and  has  promised  to  care  for  the  girl.  Yet  ’tis  well 
that  thou  hast  come,  for  thou  canst  see  the  author- 
ities and  arrange  to  dispose  of  the  house,”  and  with 
this  she  disappeared  again  in  the  kitchen. 

Horacio  looked  at  the  young  girl  with  renewed  int- 
erest. “No  kin  to  Sor  Henrique  !”  he  mused,  “Ah,  I 
remember  now.” 

It  was  indeed  true.  She  was  the  daughter,  by  a 
former  marriage,  of  the  dead  man’s  wife  who  had  pre- 


26 


Horacio 


ceded  him  to  the  better  land.  The  girl  was  angular 
and  thin — almost  scrawny — with  a great  mass  of  heav- 
y black  hair,  like  an  Indian;  large  flashing  black  eyes 
and  gleaming  teeth — the  latter  set  in  a wide  mouth,' 
which  was  ever  as  ready  to  lend  itself  to  laughter  as 
to  weeping. 

No  one  would  have  called  the  girl  good  looking, 
with  her  sallow  skin  and  sunken  cheeks,  but  there 
was  life — and  much  of  it— -in  her  fine  eyes,  and  some 
promise  in  her  carriage,  although  she  was  fourteen, 
and  still  a girl,  when  a Brazilian  is  expected  to  be  a 
woman. 

Horacio’s  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  voice 
of  Donna  Brigida  calling  to  Anna  to  lay  the  cloth. 
A bit  of  cotton  which  looked  sufficiently  like  a sheet 
to  give  one  suspicions  of  its  dual  office,  was  doubled 
across  one  end  of  the  table  and  upon  this  the  girl 
placed  the  simple  crockery  for  the  meal.  Donna  Brig- 
ida then  handed  in  the  steaming  dishes  from  the  kitch- 
en ; for,  in  seme  marvellous  way,  the  dinner  comes 
from  the  Brazilian  fogao  in  an  incredibly  short  space 
of  time. 

Both  women  sat  and  watched  him  by  the  light  of 
a little  oil  lamp,  made  of  a bit  of  wicking  passed 
through  a tin  tube  and  set  in  a small  glass  bottle  of 
kerosene.  The  elder  woman  was  not  pleasant  to  look 
upon,  being  anything  but  tidy  in  her  dress,  and  bear- 
ing a large  goitre  upon  her  neck.  Horacio  remem- 
bered having  seen  her  several  times  before. 

The  meal  finished,  the  women  made  up  a husk  bed 
on  the  floor,  and  Horacio,  after  turning  his  horse  in- 


Anna 


27 


to  a neighboring  pasture,  flung  himself  upon  it  and 
fell  immediately  into  a sound  s'eep. 

The  following  day  there  was  a councd  of  the  friends 
of  the  family  with  the  village  priest  and  the  civil  auth- 
orities. The  house  and  business  were  sold,  by  advice 
of  friends  and  consent  of  the  boy,  to  a neighbor  for 
a conto  of  reis — cash  down,  as  they  stood — and  this 
money  was  turned  over  to  Horacio  to  carry  to  his 
father,  after  the  expenses  of  interment  had  been  de- 
ducted. Possession  was  to  be  given  the  following 
day. 

All  the  world  wondered  that  there  was  nothing  else 
to  the  estate,  as  the  deceased  was  known  as  a care- 
ful man  and  a close  liver.  Anna  attempted  to  speak 
of  a supposed  secret  hoard,  but  Father  Joao  laughed 
her  to  silence  and  the  girl  shrank  back  and  said  noth- 
ing. 

The  disposal  of  the  girl  herself  promised  to  be  a 
more  difficult  matter  than  that  of  the  little  house  and 
shop,  but  Father  Joao  spoke  up  promptly  : 

“Anninha  would  best  help  with  the  chores  at  the 
vicarage  until  I can  find  her  a place  in  some  good 
family.  Come,  girl, — make  up  thy  bundle  and  come 
with  me  !” 

The  neighbors  rose  and  dispersed,  thanking  the 
good  Padre  for  his  benevolence  and  glad  to  be  rid 
of  any  responsibility  in  the  affair.  The  magistrate, 
also,  readily  gave  his  assent  to  the  guardianship  with- 
out consulting  the  most  interested  party,  but  Hora- 
cio looked  enquiringly  at  the  girl,  who  answered  his 
look  with  a wistful,  half-frightened  glance. 


28 


Horacio 


“I’ll  see  thee  again  before  I go,  Anna,”  he  said, 
and  pressed  the  lonely  child’s  hand  as  he  went  off 
toward  the  town,  intent  on  purchasing  his  long-cov- 
eted gun. 

What  was  his  disappointment,  on  reaching  the  deal- 
er’s, to  find  that  no  such  gun  as  he  desired  could  be 
obtained  in  Jahu.  Here  was  his  trip  for  nothing ! 
No,  it  was  not  for  nothing,  for  he  was  taking  some 
eight  hundred  milreis  with  him  to  his  father.  He 
turned  to  leave  the  gunsmith’s  shop,  with  bitter  dis- 
appointment, when  the  man  called  him  back. 

“If  you  want  something  extra  good  for  the  sertao, 
I have  a Winchester  rifle,  44  calibre,  fourteen  shots 
without  reloading.  Talking  about  guns ! This  is  a 
gun  ! Just  see  here  ! You  pull  this  lever  and — tek  ! — 
there  it  is,  unloaded  and  loaded  again  in  the  flash  of 
an  eye  !” 

Horacio  took  the  gun  and  examined  it  with  lively 
curiosity — then  shook  his  head. 

“No,”  he  said,  “a  rifle  is  no  use  in  the  sertao.  For 
an  onga  it  is  all  very  well,  when  the  beast  is  up  a 
tree,  but  for  small  game  it  does  not  serve,”  and  he 
laid  the  firearm  on  the  counter. 

“Nonsense,”  replied  the  dealer,  “I  have  seen  a man 
flick  the  ashes  from  a cigarette  in  his  wife’s  mouth, 
at  a hundred  paces.  ’Tis  said  that  there  are  hunters 
who  can  cut  the  head  from  any  bird  with  this  gun 
and  not  miss  once  in  ten  times.  Ay,  ’tis  even  said 
that  there  are  those  who  can  send  a ball  through 
two  birds  as  they  pass  each  other  flying  in  opposite 
directions.” 


Anna 


29 


Horacio  smiled  incredulously,  but  took  the  gun  a- 
gain  while  the  dealer  explained  it  to  him, — how  the 
sights  could  be  altered  for  distance  and  also  correct- 
ed for  any  lateral  error. 

“Only  a hundred  and  fifty  milreis,”  urged  the  man. 
“That  is  just  seventy-five  milreis  less  than  the  other 
would  have  been.  Come  ! If  you  will  take  the  rifle 
I will  put  you  in  a box  of  fifty  cartridges  with  it.” 

Horacio  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded.  He  was 
set  upon  a purpose  and,  fascinated  with  the  exploits 
of  the  gun,  he  believed  that  what  man  had  done  man 
could  do.  In  a blind  unreasoning  way  he  was  filled 
with  rage  against  the  sertao  and  was  bent  on  con- 
quering it  and  bringing  it  to  his  feet. 

He  paid  the  man  for  the  Winchester  ; purchased  one 
hundred  extra  cartridges,  besides  those  which  were 
included  in  the  purchase  price ; a small  pocket  com- 
pass, and  returned  to  the  house. 

The  day  was  well  nigh  spent  and  dinner  was  wait- 
ing for  him,  but  Anna  was  gone.  He  laid  the  gun 
upon  the  counter  and  sat  down  to  eat.  When  he  had 
finished  his  coffee  there  came  a knock  at  the  door. 

“Da  licenga  ?”  a familiar  voice  said,  enquiringly,  and 
Anna  entered  with  an  old  woman  at  her  heels.  The 
girl  seemed  relieved  at  sight  of  him,  but,  having 
shaken  hands — as  is  the  inevitable  custom — went  im- 
mediately to  her  room,  explaining  that  she  had  for- 
gotten some  small  article.  The  old  woman  followed 
her  closely.  Horacio  heard  the  girl  rummaging  about 
in  the  interior  apartment  and  exclaiming  as  she  hunt- 
ed, “Now,  where  can  it  be  ? Where  can  it  be  ? 


30 


Horacio 


Have  I lost  it  altogether  ?” 

Thus  she  went  on,  now  speaking  aloud  and  now  to 
herself.  Presently  she  approached  the  wall  against 
which  he  was  leaning. 

“Can  it  be  in  this  corner  ? Oh,  Horacio  !” — this 
last  in  a quick  whisper — “take  me  away !” — and  then 
in  a louder  voice — “Here  it  is,  to  be  sure  ! How  stu- 
pid of  me  !”  and  both  women  came  out  of  the  inner 
room  and  left  the  house,  after  shaking  hands  once 
more. 

Horacio  had  started  from  his  stool  at  sound  of  the 
appeal  which  came  through  the  frail  partition,  and  in 
which  there  was  a sharp  note  of  distress.  As  he 
shook  Anninha’s  hand,  she  looked  at  him  beseeching- 
ly and  he  pressed  her  hand  quickly  in  reassurance. 
With  relief  in  her  face,  the  girl  went  out  and  turn- 
ed her  head  as  the  door  closed  behind  her,  to  make 
sure  that  he  understood.  He  was  already  making  for 
the  rear  door,  and,  slipping  hastily  along  the  side  of 
the  house,  he  followed  the  two  women  through  the 
gathering  dusk. 

With  his  hunter’s  training  it  was  play  for  him  to 
track  them  thus,  without  being  himself  discovered, 
and  soon,  to  his  surprise,  he  found  that  they  were 
not  going  to  the  priest’s  house,  which  was  hard  by 
the  church,  but  in  another  direction.  Finally  they 
reached  a small  house  on  the  farther  side  of  the  town 
and  entered  quickly,  both  of  them  glancing  sharply 
about  to  see  if  they  were  observed,  but  for  different 
reasons.  The  old  woman  saw  no  one : Anna  saw  a 
bit  of  Horaeio’s  ear  and  eye  at  the  corner. 


Anna 


31 


Having  ascertained  all  that  he  desired  to  know  for 
the  present,  the  lad  took  his  way  back  to  the  town, 
where  he  spent  a few  milreis  in  the  purchase  of  some 
very  gaudy  handkerchiefs  and  bits  of  machine-made 
lace.  Why  Brazilian  women  will  wear  cheap  import- 
ed lace,  when  they  themselves  make  exquisite  pat- 
terns and  sell  them  for  ridiculously  low  prices,  is  one 
of  the  unsolved  problems  of  that  land  ! 

By  the  time  he  had  completed  his  purchases  it  was 
dark  enough  for  him  to  examine  safely  the  building 
which  Anna  had  entered.  Tucking  his  drygoods  a- 
way  in  a safe  and  convenient  place  inside  his  shirt, 
he  slipped  quietly  down  the  street  and  soon  reached 
the  house,  which  stood  on  a line  with  the  sidewalk, 
and  from  it  on  either  side  a wall  extended  which  en- 
closed a small  garden  and  some  fruit  trees.  The 
shutters  were  closed  in  front  and  no  light  was  visi- 
ble through  them. 

After  five  minutes  spent  in  inspection  of  the  house 
from  this  side,  the  lad  passed  entirely  around  it  and 
decided  that  he  would  have  to  scale  the  wall  to  gain 
any  further  information.  No  sooner  thought  than 
done  ! Like  a cat  he  mounted  the  wall,  and  there  he 
sat  for  a moment  panting,  for  he  had  not  yet  regain- 
ed his  strength  since  his  adventure  in  the  forest. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  fierce  barking  broke  the  si- 
lence of  the  night,  and  a large  and  savage  dog  ran 
furiously  toward  him  from  the  house,  through  the 
shrubbery. 

“Ho,  ho,  my  friend  ! I am  fond  of  dogs,  but  this 
noise  must  stop.  It  is  too  bad  to  do  thee  harm  but, 


32 


Horacio 


thou  art  champion  of  an  evil  cause.” 

While  thus  apostrophizing  him  _ inwardly,  he  had 
slipped  off  his  jacket  and  rolled  it  about  his  left  arm. 
Drawing  his  keen  knife  from  its  sheath,  he  dropped 
quickly  to  the  ground,  when — with  one  fierce  leap — 
the  brute  was  upon  him  and  closed  his  teeth  upon 
his  outstretched  arm,  protected  by  the  coat. 

A swift  blow  and  the  long  knife  buried  itself  be- 
tween his  ribs.  Without  a moan,  he  loosed  his  hold 
on  the  rolled  garment  and  fell  upon  the  ground.  Ho- 
racio heard  a door  open, 

“Lion  ! — good  fellow  ! — what  is  it  ?”  called  the  voice 
of  the  old  woman. 

The  quick-witted  boy  gave  a sharp  yelp,  imitating 
the  tone  of  the  faithful  canine  martyr ; then  made  a 
sound  of  scratching  on  the  bark  of  a tree  with  his 
knife ; mewed  like  a cat,  and  then  spat  in  true  feline 
manner. 

“Oh  ! — cats  again,  is  it  ? Give  it  to  her, — good  fel- 
low !”  Horacio  whined  and  the  woman  reentered  the 
house  and  shut  the  door,  perfectly  satisfied. 

Certain  now  that  there  was  but  one  such  guardian 
of  the  place,  the  lad  crept  stealthily  toward  the  house 
and  was  rewarded  by  finding  a shutter  partially  o- 
pen.  Here  he  posted  himself  out  of  sight  in  the  shad- 
ow, and  examined  the  interior  of  the  room,  which 
was  evidently  the  sala  of  the  house. 

The  furnishing  was  good,  for  a house  of  the  kind, 
and  a round  table  stood  at  one  side  of  the  room, 
with  two  long  rows  of  chairs  extending  down  from 
it  toward  the  other  side,  in  the  usual  fashion.  Against 


Anna 


33 


the  wall,  facing  the  rows,  was  a settee,  and  on  the 
floor  some  mats.  The  interior  was  all  neatly  white- 
washed and  a number  of  pictures  hung  upon  the 
walls ; among  them  gaudy  chromos  of  King  Humbert 
and  Queen  Margaret  of  Italy  and  His  Holiness,  the 
Pope.  A large  chromo  calendar  also  adorned  the  wall 
and  a couple  of  candles  burned  upon  the  table. 

There  were  four  persons  in  the  room  and,  of  these, 
two  were  already  known  to  Horacio.  The  others 
were  two  loud-talking  and  rather  overdressed  girls, 
who  had  some  claims  to  a rather  coarse  sort  of  good 
looks. 

Horacio  could  only  hear  an  occasional  word  of  the 
conversation,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  window  was 
closed,  but  he  could  see  that  Anna  looked  anxious 
and  ill-at-ease,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  girls 
were  in  some  way  annoying  her.  Once  she  gave  a 
frightened  glance  in  his  direction,  but  he  was  well 
out  of  sight. 

How  to  indicate  his  presence  was  the  problem ! 
After  thinking  fruitlessly  for  some  time,  he  determin- 
to  risk  all  and  attract  her  attention  at  any  hazard. 
Placing  himself  in  full  view  of  the  girl,  in  the  open- 
ing between  the  shutters,  but  out  of  sight  of  the  oth- 
ers, he  tapped  smartly  against  the  glass,  as  a beetle 
would  do. 

Anna  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  directly  into  his. 
By  her  sudden  change  of  color  he  saw  that  he  was 
observed,  and  instantly  bounded  away  into  the  dark- 
ness. Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  door  opened 
again  and  the  old  woman  peered  out  into  the  night. 


34 


Horacio 


He  could  see  by  her  face,  in  the  light  streaming  from 
the  door,  that  she  was  in  no  way  uneasy,  but  rather 
from  habitual  caution,  sought  the  cause  of  the  noise. 

“It  must  have  been  a bizouro,”  she  said,  calmly, 
and  closed  the  door. 

Horacio  instantly  returned  to  his  post  at  the  win- 
dow, where  he  remained  for  at  least  an  hour,  observ- 
ing the  interior  of  the  room.  From  time  to  time  Anna 
lifted  her  great  eyes  serenely  to  the  window  and  look- 
ed steadily  at  him.  Meanwhile  the  gossip  and  chitchat 
went  on  until,  at  length,  the  old  woman  began  to  stir 
about  and  prepare  the  house  for  retiring. 

The  watcher  at  the  window  now  saw  that  he  must 
be  gone ; so  he  slipped  away  again,  and  hid  himself 
in  the  shrubbery,  nearby. 

Presently  the  old  woman  opened  the  door  and  call- 
ed : “Leao  ! Leao ! ” 

The  boy  trembled  with  apprehension,  for  he  was 
too  near  to  attempt  to  answer  for  the  dog. 

“What! — still  watching  the  cat?”  she  queried,  and 
then  turned  and  went  to  one  of  the  shutters  and  laid 
a bar  across  it,  dropping  it  into  two  iron  hooks  on 
the  outside.  Horacio  now  noticed  that  several  of  the 
windows  were  arranged  in  this  manner,  but,  as  she 
did  not  secure  the  others  with  their  bars,  he  surmiz- 
ed that  Anna  was  to  be  held  in  the  room  which  had 
been  prepared  for  her  reception  in  this  manner. 

Secure  in  this  conviction,  his  doubts  of  the  success 
of  his  enterprise  began  to  leave  him.  Lights  moved 
here  and  there : the  shutters  of  the  sala  were  closed : 
a narrow  ray  of  light  shot  suddenly  from  those  shut- 


Anna 


35 


ters  which  had  been  barred  from  without.  Then — in 
a short  time — all  was  silence. 

For  an  hour  longer,  Horacio  waited.  All  signs  of 
life  had  long  ago  disappeared.  At  last  the  boy  crept 
to  the  window  and  gently  lifted  the  bar  from  its 
place.  Cautious  as  he  had  been  in  all  his  movements, 
yet  they  did  not  escape  the  ears  of  one  who  was 
watching. 

“I  thought  thou  wouldst  never  come,  ” came  the 
soft  whisper,  “but  it  is  all  useless.  There  is  a heavy 
padlock  on  the  inside,”  and  a sob  trembled  in  her 
voice. 

Horacio  muttered  an  imprecation  between  his  teeth, 
and  thought  a moment.  “Art  thou  alone  ?”  he  ask- 
ed, at  length. 

“Yes,”  came  the  answer, 

“Is  the  room  ceiled  or  canst  thou  see  the  tiles  of 
the  roof?” 

“I  can  see  the  tiles.” 

“Then  wait!” 

A ladder  was  necessary,  and  a rope.  The  former 
could  be  secured  at  the  house  which  he  had  that 
morning  sold,  and,  for  the  latter,  the  rawhide  lariat 
hanging  at  his  saddle  would  suffice  : but  how  to  bring 
the  ladder  from  one  side  of  the  town  to  the  other, 
was  the  question.  He  would  think  of  it  on  the  way, 
but  first  he  would  search  the  yard. 

To  his  great  delight,  he  came  upon  a ladder,  lean- 
ing against  a jaboticabeira.  Placing  it  against  the 
wall,  he  dropped  into  the  street  and  made  off  on  a 
run  to  the  house. 


36 


Horacio 


Flinging  the  saddle  on  his  good  horse,  without  stop- 
ping to  give  him  a feed  of  corn,  he  slung  his  rifle 
across  his  back,  stowed  the  cartridges  in  the  alforges, 
and  quickly  returned  to  the  house  where  Anna  was; 
and  there  he  left  his  horse  to  crop  the  grass  by  the 
walk. 

Detaching  his  lariat  from  the  saddle,  he  climbed 
over  the  wall  and  soon  had  the  ladder  leaning  against 
the  house,  between  the  window  of  the  sala  and  that 
of  the  room  where  the  girl  was  confined.  Mounting 
quickly  to  the  roof,  he  proceeded  to  detach  the  tiles 
as  gently  and  noiselessly  as  possible,  and  soon  had 
made  an  opening  of  a considerable  size,  with  the  loos- 
ened tiles  piled  on  either  side. 

The  heavy  brick  tiles  had  rested  upon  slats  of  bam- 
boo, which  were  bound  to  the  rafters  by  withes  and, 
as  it  was  necessary  to  remove  a number  of  these 
with  his  knife,  the  utmost  care  must  be  exercised  in 
order  not  to  make  the  least  sound,  lest  it  might  a- 
waken  the  zealous  guardian  of  the  house. 

The  withes  were  old  and  as  hard  as  iron,  and  at 
least  three  hours  were  consumed  in  the  task  ; so  that, 
for  a time,  the  boy  feared  that  his  toil  would  be  use- 
less and  morning  would  dawn  ere  he  had  completed 
the  work : but  at  last  the  slats  gave  way  and  there 
was  an  aperture  sufficiently  large  for  the  girl  to  pass. 

Meanwhile,  Anna  had  not  been  idle,  but  had  mov- 
ed a table  beneath  the  opening  and  upon  this  she 
had  set  a chair  and  was  now  standing  upon  it,  with 
her  head  only  about  three  feet  below  the  aperture. 
The  rope  would  not  be  necessary,  after  all. 


Anna 


37 


Horacio  braced  himself  above  and  reached  down 
his  hands  to  the  girl.  In  an  instant  her  elbows  were 
resting  upon  the  edge  of  the  hole  and  a great  pile 
of  tiles  fell  with  a crash  upon  the  floor ! 

“Quick ! Quick  ! Or  we  are  lost !”  cried  the  start- 
led lad,  his  heart  thumping  with  excitement.  “Up  thou 
comest !”  and  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  drew  the  girl 
up  beside  him.  “Now ; down  the  ladder,  and  I will 
follow ! ” 

The  girl  scrambled  down  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye,  and  was  already  upon  the  ground  when  the  house 
door  opened  and  the  old  woman  appeared,  armed 
with  a light  and  a garrucha  of  formidable  size,  which 
she  discharged  into  the  darkness  in  the  direction  of 
the  young  people,  having  no  idea  that  her  ward  was 
already  in  the  patio. 

A hail  of  buckshot  cut  the  leaves  from  the  shrub- 
bery, close  by  the  fugitives.  A sharp  exclamation  of 
fright  came  from  the  girl  and  she  commenced  to  go 
up  the  ladder  which  Horacio  had  set  against  the  out- 
side wall. 

“Look  out  for  the  other  barrel ! ” cried  the  boy, 
but  she  could  now  be  readily  seen  against  the  sky, 
as  she  stood  upon  the  wall,  and  the  woman  would 
not  shoot.  “Jump ! Jump  ! ” exclaimed  Horacio. 
“Never  mind  me  ! ” 

The  girl  obeyed  and  jumped,  and  the  lad  sprang 
upon  the  ladder.  At  that  moment  the  woman  laid 
hold  upon  his  trouser  leg,  but  he  kicked  her  as  hard 
as  he  could  with  his  bare  toes  and  she  fell  backward 
into  the  bushes. 


38 


Horacio 


In  a moment  he  was  upon  the  wall  but,  as  he  turn- 
ed to  see  what  had  become  of  his  antagonist,  a sec- 
ond report  rang  out,  and  he  felt  a blow  on  his  breast 
as  a ball  struck  him.  A sharp  pang  went  through 
his  heart,  and  he  fell  backwards  upon  the  grass  out- 
side the  wall. 

“Fly ! Fly ! ” he  called,  faintly,  to  the  girl  whose 
cause  he  had  so  bravely  championed,  but  she  would 
not  leave  him,  although  doors  and  windows  now  be- 
gan to  open  and  voices  to  be  heard  upon  the  street. 
The  horse  was  snuffing  at  the  face  of  his  fallen  mas- 
ter, and  gazing  at  Anna  in  mute  protest  and  entreaty. 
In  a moment  they  would  be  the  center  of  a curious 
and  angry  crowd. 

Seeing  that  the  girl  would  not  make  use  of  her  dear- 
ly-bought liberty,  Horacio  made  a great  effort  and 
raised  himself  upon  his  elbow.  Finding  that  he  still 
had  control  of  his  limbs,  he  sat  up,  placed  one  hand 
upon  his  throbbing  heart;  then  sprang  to  his  feet, 
cast  the  rein  on  Bonito’s  neck  ; with  one  leap  was  in 
the  saddle  and,  ere  his  pursuers  could  reach  him,  had 
lifted  the  girl  up  behind  him  and  was  off  at  a gallop. 

Clinging  closely  to  her  young  companion,  Anna  turn- 
ed and  looked  back  for  signs  of  pursuit.  Horacio 
kept  on,  in  a direction  opposite  to  that  in  which  the 
sitio  lay.  For  two  hours  he  pushed  on  as  fast  as  his 
sturdy  young  horse  could  stand  it.  Then  he  felt  the 
girl  grow  heavy  on  his  shoulder. 

“She  sleeps,”  he  thought,  and  turned  to  catch  her 
as  she  slipped  from  her  position.  The  horse  had  now 
left  the  main,  traveled  road,  and  Horacio  was  follow- 


Anna 


39 


ing  a circuitous  route  by  a by-path  through  the  matto 
to  gain  his  home. 

Knowing  that  pursuit  was  now  no  longer  likely,  he 
let  the  girl  drop  to  the  ground,  intending  to  rest  his 
horse  ere  he  resumed  his  journey  and  at  the  same 
time  attend  to  his  wound,  which  was  paining  him  se- 
verely. 

As  Anna  dropped  to  the  ground,  a warm,  slippery 
fluid  spread  over  his  hand  and  he  lost  his  hold  on  her, 
so  that  she  slid  from  his  grasp  to  the  grass  by  the 
roadside.  Instantly  he  dropped  upon  his  knees  beside 
her  and,  by  the  dim  light  of  the  moon,  he  saw  that 
she  had  fainted. 

Hastening  to  the  corrego,  he  brought  water  in  his 
hat  and  dashed  it  upon  her  face.  As  she  came  to 
herself,  he  begged  her  to  tell  him  where  she  was 

hurt. 

“Here,”  she  murmured  faintly,  pointing  to  her  left 
arm.  Horacio  slit  the  sleeve,  finding  her  arm  drench- 
ed with  blood  and  also  the  skirt  of  the  dress  below 
it,  where  it  had  run  down  while  she  was  in  the  sad- 
dle. Bringing  more  water,  he  bathed  it  gently  and, 
on  washing  away  the  blood,  found  a small  hole  where 
a buckshot  had  passed  entirely  through  the  flesh— 
fortunately,  without  injuring  the  bone. 

Leaving  her  for  an  instant,  he  hunted  in  the  dim 
light  of  dawn  which,  as  the  sun  came  near  the  hor- 
izon, was  now  taking  the  place  of  the  moonlight,  and, 
in  a few  moments,  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  some 
leaves  which  he  well  knew  to  have  great  healing  vir- 
tue. With  these  he  returned  and,  washing  the  wound 


40 


Horacio 


again,  bound  the  arm  about  with  the  leaves,  using 
the  lace  and  handkerchiefs  which  he  had  bought  for 
his  mother  and  sisters. 

They  were  now  entirely  ruined,  for  the  large  ball 
with  which  the  second  barrel  of  the  garrucha  was 
charged,  had  entered  the  package  and  passed  through 
the  various  folds  of  cloth  and  pasteboard  and  reach- 
ed his  skin,  only  to  bruise  and  not  to  break  it.  Be- 
neath the  package  was  a flattened  bullet  and  a great 
black  and  blue  mark. 

The  girl  watched  him  as  he  worked  and,  when  he 
drew  the  package  out  and  exclaimed  at  his  discovery, 
she  said  : “Give  me  the  bullet,  please  !”  and,  closing 
her  fingers  over  it,  shut  her  eyes  and  rested  while 
he  removed  the  evidence  of  their  halt  and  prepared 
to  resume  the  journey. 

It  was  now  broad  day  and,  as  Anna  assured  him 
that  she  was  able  to  go  on,  they  mounted  and  follow- 
ed the  narrow  trail  through  the  forest  at  a steady 
pace,  until  about  ten  o’clock,  when  they  came  to  the 
balsa  at  the  Tiete.  The  large  canoe  was  at  the  oth- 
er side,  but  the  man  came  at  their  hail  and  took  them 
across,  while  the  horse  swam  beside  them. 

Annibal,  the  ferryman,  greeted  the  lad  cordially  as 
an  old  friend,  but  looked  at  him  curiously  and  at  his 
young  companion.  Horacio  wondered  that  he  asked 
no  questions,  for  he  knew  his  countrymen  well,  and 
knew  that  no  bashfulness  would  prevent  them  from 
satisfying  their  never-failing  curiosity. 

While  he  cogitated  on  this  idea,  they  at  length 
reached  the  farther  side  of  the  river.  The  horse 


Father  Joao 


41 


scrambled  up  the  steep  bank,  doubling  his  knees  as 
he  reached  the  top,  and  shaking  himself  like  a dog, 
until  the  water  flew  from  him  in  showers.  The  boy 
patted  him  lovingly  on  the  neck  and  quickly  resad- 
dled, while  the  animal  nosed  his  pocket,  where  there 
was  a bit  of  bread  which  he  had  bought  in  the  town. 

Reminded  thus  of  his  physical  necessities,  he  broke 
the  small  loaf  in  two,  and,  giving  the  larger  half  to 
Anna,  crumbled  off  a bit  of  his  own  share  for  the 
horse  and  mounted,  saying  carelessly  as  he  did  so : 

“ Did  Padre  Joao  ask  after  me  as  he  passed  ? ” 

The  man  started  guiltily  and  cast  a sly  glance  at 
him:  then  he  replied:  “How?  What  Padre  Joao?” 

“ Padre  Joao  of  Jahu,  of  course,”  replied  the  boy, 
quickly,  “ when  he  passed  this  morning  with  the  Juiz 
de  Dereito  and  the  other  two,”  for  his  quick  eye  had 
noticed  the  fresh  tracks  of  four  horses  on  the  bank. 

“ Oh,  ay : he  asked  after  thee,  and  when  he  found 
that  thou  hadst  not  passed,  he  bade  me  not  to  men- 
tion seeing  him ; but,  as  thou  knowest  already  of  his 
passing,  there  is  no  harm  in  telling  thee,  I take  it.” 

“ No, — none  at  all.  Adeus  ! Good  luck  to  thee  ! ” 
He  settled  himself  in  his  saddle  and  gave  a hand  to 
his  companion  to  assist  her  to  her  place  behind  him  : 
then  spoke  back  over  his  shoulder, — “ but  see  here,  my 
friend, — if  I find  that  thou  hast  said  nothing  of  the 
girl  that  is  with  me,  to  the  priest,  on  his  return ; I 
shall  bring  thee  a fat  buck  ere  this  day  week  be 
come.” 

“ The  buck  is  mine,  already  ! I can  see  him  hang- 
ing from  the  branch  there  by  the  cabin,”  replied  the 


42 


Horacio 


man,  laughing  and  winking  shrewdly  at  the  lad,  who 
smiled  back  at  him  and  rode  off. 

The  rest  of  the  ride  was  made  with  an  ear  always 
open  for  the  sound  of  horsemen  approaching  from 
in  front,  but  at  four  o’clock,  or  thereabouts,  their 
journey  was  wellnigh  over.  Turning  aside  into  a by- 
way, Horacio  sought  out  one  of  his  ancient  haunts 
and  bade  the  girl  dismount  and  conceal  herself,  while 
he  rode  on  in  advance  to  spy  out  the  land. 

“ Do  thou  remain  here,  if  need  be,  until  the  morn- 
ing, at  whatever  cost.  Leave  not  thy  post  until  mid- 
day. If  I be  not  dead  or  captive  I will  be  here  long 
ere  that.  Art  thou  afraid  ? ” 

“ No,”  said  the  girl,  “ I have  no  fear.” 

Pressing  her  hand  in  farewell,  he  rode  boldly  on, 
slipping  fourteen  cartridges  into  the  chamber  of  his 
rifle  as  he  rode. 


3 

FATHER  JOAO. 

N D E R a shed  in  the  curral,  or 
dooryard-— in  front  of  the  house™ 
four  horses  were  tethered  when 
Horacio  rode  up  to  the  fence  and, 
without  opening  the  big  gate,  look- 
ed over  at  the  horses  as  though  to 
get  some  idea  of  the  character  of 
their  owners  from  the  appearance  of  the  beasts  which 
belonged  to  them. 

Two  of  the  animals-— by  their  furnishings— -evident- 
ly belonged  to  the  mounted  police,  or  gendarmerie, — 
the  others  might  have  belonged  to  anybody. 

Horacio  whistled  to  himself  as  he  thought  of  en- 
countering the  powers— military,  civil  and  ecclesias- 
tical ; but  the  boy  was  somehow,  of  a sudden,  grown 
a man,  and  he  did  not  hesitate. 

At  the  sound  of  his  approach,  the  doorway  had 


44 


Horacio 


filled  with  people,  who,  upon  seeing  that  it  was  the 
boy  on  horseback  and  alone,  quickly  crowded  out 
into  the  curral.  Horacio  ran  his  eye  over  the  group. 
Father  Joao  and  the  Juiz  de  Dereito,  two  gendarmes, 
his  father,  mother,  and  the  four  younger  children, 
made  up  the  list. 

“ Ah,  malvado,”  cried  the  priest,  his  empurpled  face 
blazing  with  wrath,  “ what  hast  thou  done  with  the 
girl?  Where  is  Anninha?” 

“ Where  your  Reverence  will  not  be  likely  to  find 
her,”  replied  the  boy,  coldly. 

“Wouldst  thou  reply  thus  to  his  Reverence,  un- 
worthy boy  ? ” his  father  cried,  in  dismay.  “ Where 
is  the  girl,  and  what  means  this  mischief  ? Dismount 
and  give  an  account  of  thyself ! ” 

“ Under  thy  favor,  my  father,  I will  not  dismount 
until  I am  ready.  What  would  these  gentlemen  have 
with  me  ? ” 

At  this  the  Juiz  de  Dereito  spoke  ingratiatingly  : 
“ Horacio,  my  young  friend,  tell  us  what  you  have 
done  with  Anna.  His  Reverence  is  her  lawful  guard- 
ian.” 

“ Let  him  dispute  her  possession  with  the  buzzards, 
then,  your  Worship ! I left  her  down  the  road  with 
a bullet  through  her;  for  which  his  Reverence’s  jail- 
or is  responsible.” 

“ Where  was  it  that  you  left  her  ? ” asked  the  mag- 
istrate, somewhat  incredulously. 

“ She  slipped  from  behind  me  to  the  ground,  a good 
bit  the  other  side  of  Jahu.  See  her  blood  upon  my 
coat ! I knew  not  that  she  was  wounded  until  she 


Father  Joao 


45 


fell.” 

“ Why  didst  thou  meddle  in  this  matter,  young  ne’er- 
do-well  ? What  was  it  to  thee  whether  the  child 
staid  with  his  Reverence  or  not  ? ” demanded  his  fath- 
er, severely. 

“ Naught  to  me,  sir,  but  much  to  her.  She  would 
not  go  with  him  of  her  own  free  will,  and  begged  my 
help  to  set  her  free.  I know  not  why, — but  the  cat 
well  knows  whose  whiskers  he  licks,”  and  he  shrug- 
ged his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  affected  indifference. 

“ ’ Tis  all  a lie,  Sor  Jose  Antonio,”  blustered  Padre 
Joao.  “ I misdoubt  me  much  that  the  lad  has  con- 
cealed the  girl  nigh  at  hand  and  will  make  off  with 
her  and  the  money  when  I am  gone.” 

“ Ah, — what  of  the  money,  boy  ? ” exclaimed  his  fath- 
er, hastily,  and  with  suddenly  augmented  interest. 

“ Here  is  thy  money  ! Count  it ! ” cried  the  lad,  in 
reply,  and,  with  curling  lip,  snatched  a roll  of  dirty 
bills,  tied  about  with  twine,  from  his  pocket  and  toss- 
ed it  over  the  palisade.  His  father’s  face  cleared  at 
sight  of  it  and  he  spread  it  out  on  a post  to  count 
it ; entirely  oblivious  to  the  rest  of  the  priest’s  com- 
plaint. 

Meanwhile  the  priest  and  the  magistrate  conferred 
together ; the  former  gesticulating  and  urging  some 
action ; and  the  latter  shaking  his  head  dubiously. 

Finally,  however,  the  Juiz  de  Dereito  seemed  to  be 
won  over  and,  assuming  an  air  of  severity  and  a voice 
of  authority,  cried  out : 

“ I charge  this  lad,  Horacio  de  Castro,  with  break- 
ing into  the  house  of  the  citizen,  Father  Joao,  by 


46 


Horacio 


force  and  by  violence  ! Men,— -do  your  duty  and  ar- 
rest him ! ” and  he  waved  his  hand  to  the  two  po- 
licemen. 

Horacio  was  expecting  something  of  this  sort,  how- 
ever, and  drew  his  rifle  carelessly  into  view,  calling 
out  in  a firm  voice,  as  the  two  gendarmes  advanced  : 

“ I have  fourteen  balls  in  this  rifle  and  I shall  not 
miss  both  of  you  ! Senhor  Juiz, — we  are  not  in  the 
Municipality  of  Jahu  but  in  that  of  Lengoes,  and  I 
should  advise  you  to  look  after  the  interest  of  your 
own  district ; for  who  lies  down  with  dogs  will  get 
up  with  fleas.  There  is  business  enough  in  Jahu ! 
Ask  Father  Joao  where  are  my  late  uncle’s  savings ! 
He  saw  him  die  ! ” 

The  face  of  the  priest  became  purple  again  with 
rage  at  the  boy’s  insinuation,  which  was  the  fruit  of 
a sudden  inspiration.  He  started  to  speak,  but  was 
so  choked  with  wrath  that  the  words  would  not  come 
to  his  thick,  sensual  lips,  and  he  merely  foamed  at 
the  mouth,  muttering  and  mumbling. 

Horacio’s  father  looked  at  him  enquiringly  and  the 
boy  exclaimed — with  a certain  gleam  of  satisfaction  in 
his  eye,  as  he  saw  the  effect  of  his  last  words : 

“ Arrest  me  at  your  peril ! I shall  protect  myself ! ” 

The  men,  who  had  been  edging  forward  to  make 
the  arrest,  paused  as  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  rose  inch 
by  inch  as  they  came  toward  him,  and  the  lad  finish- 
ed what  he  had  to  say  without  seeming  to  see  them. 

“ Let  the  good  father  settle  his  grievances  with  me 
when  next  I cross  the  river,  and,  meanwhile,  it  may 
be  wise  for  you  all  to  mount  and  be  off,  lest  night 


Father  Joao 


47 


find  you  far  from  home.  Our  house  is  over  small 
for  such  grand  personages  to  tarry  with  us.  There 
is  not  suitable  accommodation  for  you ! ” 

“ Horacio ! Horacio ! ” exclaimed  his  father,  aghast 
at  this  defiance  and  amazed  at  the  change  which  had 
come  over  his  son.  “ These  gentlemen  are  welcome 
here.  The  house  and  all  in  it  are  at  their  disposition.” 
The  laws  of  hospitality  are  sacred  with  the  Brazilian. 

“ Even  so,  father,  but  the  climate  is  sadly  unwhole- 
some in  these  parts  for  the  people  of  Jahu,  and  I 
should  advise  them  to  be  going  ere  nightfall.  A 
dangerous  miasma  hangs  about  the  place.” 

Evidently  the  magistrate  thought  their  case  weak, 
and  was  not  inclined  to  meddle  further  in  a matter 
which  brought  him  so  much  toil  and  such  precarious 
credit,  and  Padre  Joao  himself  saw  that  nothing  was 
to  be  gained  by  further  delay  or  argument. 

Turning  his  back  on  the  lad,  with  a dark  and  threat- 
ening look,  he  strode  straightway  to  his  horse  and 
flung  himself  upon  it  without  another  word.  Gath- 
ering up  the  reins,  he  smote  the  beast  with  his  chi- 
cote  and  set  his  spurs  wickedly  in  its  flanks.  With 
a snort  of  pain,  the  animal  plunged  forward  sharply 
and  brought  up  short  against  the  rawhide  rope  with 
which  it  was  still  tethered,  nearly  unseating  the  cler- 
ical gentleman. 

A roar  of  laughter  went  up,  in  which  everyone 
joined,  to  the  greatly  increased  annoyance  of  the  dis- 
comfited priest.  One  of  the  soldiers  ran  at  once  to 
help  him  and  loosed  the  trembling  horse,  while  his 
comrade  threw  open  the  gate,  and,  in  another  mo- 


48 


Horacio 


ment  the  little  cavalcade  was  galloping  down  the  road 
with  scantly  courteous  farewells. 

Horacio  watched  them  out  of  sight  and  then  threw 
himself  from  his  jaded  horse  and  entered  the  house. 
In  an  instant  the  children  were  about  him,  and  his 
whole  manner  changed  as  he  embraced  first  one  and 
then  another. 

“ Ah,  caboclinho  ! ” he  cried,  “ hast  not  forgotten  thy 
brother?  Such  a long  time  thou  hast  been  absent, 
my  Jose!  And  Maneco,  too  — little  animal  that  thou 
art ! ” 

The  two  girls,  Eugenia  and  Luiza,  less  demonstrative, 
stood  shyly  by,  and  told  him  news  of  their  neighbors. 

“Oh,  Horacio !— -the  lovely  baile  that  is  to  be  at 
Augustinho’s  on  the  twentieth,  at  the  wedding,  and 
we  could  not  stay,  for  father  brought  us  away.  Wilt 
thou  not  take  us  ? ” 

“ Take  ye  ? To  be  sure  I ’ll  take  ye  ! But  now  run 
along,  for  I am  tired  and  hungry,”  and  he  held  out 
his  hand  for  the  cup  of  black  coffee  which  his  moth- 
er brought  him  on  a tray.  Horacio  drank  the  coffee 
at  a gulp  and,  placing  the  cup  again  on  the  tray, 
turned  to  his  father. 

“ I must  go  and  fetch  the  girl,”  he  said.  “ Poor 
thing!  She  has  a bullet  in  her.” 

“ What ! She  did  not  die,  and  thou  hast  brought 
her  here  ? This  is  bad  business,  I fear.” 

“ She  will  help  in  the  house  and  can  earn  her  keep. 
She  is  a plucky  one  and  deserves  the  right  to  choose 
her  abiding-place.  What  dost  thou  say,  sir, — is  there 
a home  for  her  here,  or  not?” 


Father  Joao 


49 


The  father  looked  at  his  son  with  an  expression  of 
dim  wonder  on  his  face.  What  was  come  over  the 
boy?  The  careless  lad  had  been  transformed  by  the 
events  of  a few  days.  For  a moment  he  hesitated, 
and  then  murmured,  musingly  and  doubtfully  : “Hum  ! 
I like  not  the  thought  of  the  padre— to  whom  else 
than  to  us  ?• — yet  she  is  no  kin — who  spits  against  the 
wind  is  apt  to  get  it  back  in  the  face — well,  well,” — 
then,  aloud,  “Sinha !” 

At  the  sound  of  his  call,  the  woman  appeared  in 
the  doorway,  wiping  her  hands  on  her  skirt. 

“Hast  thou  a corner  for  the  child  that  was  with 
Henrique?  What  is  her  name?”  he  asked,  turning 
to  Horacio. 

“Anna !”  said  he,  briefly. 

“Canst  thou  take  her  in  ?”  his  father  repeated. 

The  woman  shrugged  her  shoulders.  Finally,  she 
commenced  drawing  the  edge  of  her  skirt  slowly  back 
and  forth  between  her  fingers  as  though  she  were 
gradually  coming  to  a decision. 

“There  is  always  plenty  to  do,”  she  said,  “and  plenty 
to  eat.  I should  be  glad  to  have  her  here.” 

“Then  bring  her  along !”  the  father  said,  and  went 
back  to  his  work. 

Horacio  called  out  to  Jose : “Oh,  Zezinho ! Unsad- 
dle Bonito  and  give  him  milho.” 

The  little  fellow  ran  a race  with  his  brother  to  o- 
bey  the  order  and  their  elder  brother  went  off  down 
the  road  in  search  of  Anna,  whom  he  finally  found 
fast  asleep,  regardless  of  gnats  and  flies  which  had 
gathered  about  the  blood-stains  on  her  clothing. 


50 


Horacio 


Touching  the  girl  on  her  shoulder,  she  awoke  with 
a start  and  a slight  scream,  but  her  face  broke  into 
a rare  and  radiant  smile  at  sight  of  him. 

“Oh — it  is  thou ! I thought  they  had  come  to  take 
me,”  she  exclaimed. 

“Have  no  fear ! They  are  gone  and  will  not  re- 
turn. Their  hen  cackled  but  did  not  lay  an  egg. 
Come  !”  and  he  stooped  and  took  up  the  little  bundle 
she  had  brought  with  her,  and  which  was  now  lying 
beside  her  on  the  ground. 

Anna  scrambled  lamely  to  her  feet  and,  seeing  that 
she  was  stiff  and  sore,  the  boy  awkwardly  aided  her, 
touching  her  wounded  arm  inadvertently  as  he  did 
so.  The  girl  started,  gave  a quick  exclamation  and 
turned  pale,  leaning  against  his  shoulder  as  she  be- 
came faint.  Horacio  caught  her  and  for  a moment 
her  pallid  cheek  lay  close  to  the  flush  that  mounted 
upon  his  swarthy  neck.  He  did  not  know  why  his 
heart  throbbed — it  had  not  done  so  the  night  before 
when  he  was  busied  with  plans  for  their  escape — 
but  it  did  not  pain  him  to  feel  it. 

Recovering  herself  in  an  instant,  the  two  set  off 
together  toward  the  house,  Anna  leaning  upon  her 
champion’s  arm  for  a portion  of  the  way,  and  then 
walking  by  herself  as  they  neared  the  house,  and  as 
she  gained  strength. 

The  children  stood  shyly  about  in  wonder  at  sight 
of  their  brother’s  companion — who  was  entirely  un- 
known to  them — but  the  woman  of  many  cares  wel- 
comed her  cordially  to  her  new  home.  Kissing  her 
on  each  cheek  and  letting  her  rest  her  head  on  her 


Father  Joao 


51 


motherly  shoulder  for  a little  moment  while  she  wink- 
ed away  a few  tears  of  weariness  and  loneliness,  she 
took  her  with  her  to  the  rooms  in  the  rear  and  found 
a place  for  the  strange  bird  in  the  nest. 

Horacio  sat  down  at  the  table  and  dined,  but  Anna 
ate  in  the  kitchen,  as  is  the  custom  of  Brazilian  wom- 
en in  the  country.  Both  of  them  were  half-famish- 
ed, and  did  ample  justice  to  the  hearty  and  whole- 
some food. 

The  following  day  there  was  a new  wonder  in  the 
house.  Father  and  son  were  busying  themselves  a- 
bout  the  chores  while  they  waited  for  breakfast. 

“We  shall  go  to  the  roga  to-day.  Thou  wouldst 
best  grind  thy  facao  and  an  axe,”  the  father  said,  at 
last. 

“I  will  go  to  the  roga  no  more,”  said  Horacio,  firm- 
ly. “I  have  other  things  to  do.  I am  resolved  !” 

This  was  too  much  for  any  man’s  patience.  That 
a boy  of  sixteen  should  say  what  he  would  or  would 
not  do,  in  his  father’s  house  ! The  elder  man  turned 
to  him  in  hot  anger. 

“The  foul  fiend  take  thy  ‘will’  and  ‘will  not’ ! Thou 
wilt  do  as  thou  art  bidden  ! So  set  to  work,  or  thou 
shalt  feel  the  chicote  as  did  the  priest’s  horse.”  Here 
father  and  son  forgot  their  difference  to  laugh  togeth- 
er at  the  recollection. 

“Canst  thou  not  have  Antonio  up  here  to  help  in 
my  place  ? I will  fetch  him  to-day,”  said  Horacio,  fi- 
nally. 

“What  Antonio  nor  what  foolishness?”  he  cried. 
“Thinkest  thou  that  I have  money  to  burn  because 


52 


Horacio 


my  brother  left  me  eight  hundred  paltry  milreis?  I 
should  like  well  to  know  where  is  that  which  he  has 
hoarded  all  these  years,  for  he  was  close-fisted  as 
any  0119a.” 

“Thou  wilt  have  to  ask  Father  Joao  about  Tio  Hen- 
rique’s  savings,  but  I shall  pay  the  wages  of  Antonio. 
See  ! — here  are  fifty  milreis  to  begin  with,  from  the 
money  that  I had  saved  for  my  gun.  That  will  be  a 
month’s  wages  and  the  rest  will  come  later.  I want 
my  liberty !” 

The  father  looked  again  at  his  son,  wonderingly 
and  doubtfully,  but  he  took  the  money  which  the  lad 
held  out  to  him. 

“What  madness  is  this  ?”  he  muttered.  “What  gun 
is  that  which  thou  hast  brought  with  thee?” 

“ ’Tis  a rifle.” 

“A  rifle !”  exclaimed  his  father,  in  amazement,  “and 
what  wilt  thou  do  with  a rifle  ?” 

“Leave  me  alone ! I bought  it  cheap  and  shall  get 
my  money  back.  Shall  I go  for  Antonio  ?” 

“Ay, — go  if  it  suits  thee.  So  long  as  thou  payest 
a substitute,  thou  mayest  have  thy  liberty.” 

By  noon  a sturdy  caboclo  was  in  the  roga  in  Hor- 
acio’s  place,  and  the  boy  was  busy  about  some  scheme 
of  his  own. 

Taking  a large  knife,  he  went  to  the  edge  of  the 
wood  and  cut  two  strong,  forked  saplings : these  he 
buried  deeply  in  the  ground  near  to  one  another  and 
then  bound  his  rifle  in  the  forks  with  wet  thongs. 

With  the  help  of  his  brothers,  he  then  arranged  a 
target  of  boards  at  a distance  of  some  fifty  meters, 


Father  Joao 


53 


and  stationed  the  elder  lad,  with  a bit  of  charcoal, 
at  the  target.  By  this  time  the  heat  of  the  sun  had 
dried  the  thongs,  and  the  weapon  rested  as  firmly  in 
the  forks  as  though  it  were  bolted  there. 

Horacio  sighted  along  the  gun  and  guided  his  broth- 
er’s hand  into  line,  directing  him  to  make  a cross  at 
the  exact  intersection.  He  then  warned  the  boys 
that  he  was  going  to  shoot,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
The  bullet  entered  the  intersection  of  the  black  lines. 
Good ! The  weapon  was  perfect  and  the  'sights  ad- 
justed laterally. 

He  now  arranged  a new  target  at  the  first  distance 
indicated  on  the  sliding  sight  and  shot  again,  after  ad- 
justing the  sight.  Perfect  again  ! 

Thus  he  proved  his  weapon  with  five  shots  and 
then,  cutting  the  thongs  and  releasing  it,  repeated  the 
five  shots  with  only  his  strong  young  arms  and  steady 
nerves  to  aid  him.  He  was  amply  satisfied  with  his 
success  although  ten  shots  were  thrown  away  with- 
out apparent  profit. 

Aiming  at  a chicken  in  the  far  corner  of  the  cur- 
ral,  he  cut  its  head  off  as  neatly  with  a ball  as  he 
could  have  done  it  with  a knife. 

Knowing  his  weapon  now — which  was  to  be  his 
new  friend  and  companion — it  only  remained  for  him 
to  learn  a second  and  a harder  lesson,  for  the  first 
was  really  learned  by  years  of  practice  with  the  old 
muzzle-loader  which  the  queixadas  had  destroyed. 
He  must  learn  to  stop  a running  buck  with  a ball. 

Leaving  the  chicken  at  the  house,  he  set  off  for 
the  matto  and  did  not  return  until  night.  He  had 


54 


Horacio 


wasted  three  shots  on  a running  mark. 

The  next  day  he  wasted  three  more  and  brought 
down  a jacu  at  the  fourth,  as  he  was  running  swift- 
ly along  a limb.  He  now  saw  that  it  was  a knack, 
and  practiced  on  two  or  three  running  chickens  in 
the  curral.  The  next  day  he  shot  a buck  on  the  run 
and,  throwing  it  across  his  horse,  set  out  for  the  river. 

“Is  the  buck  thine,  friend  Annibal  ?”  he  asked  of 
the  boatman,  “or  didst  thou  tell  his  Reverence  of  the 
girl  ?” 

“The  buck  is  mine  ! A bargain  is  a bargain,” — for- 
getting that  he  had  first  agreed  with  the  priest  to  let 
him  know  if  the  girl  was  with  Horacio — “I  told  his 
Reverence  that  thou  wert  alone.  Women  are  of  no 
account,  anyway.  We  do  not  reckon  them,”  and  he 
grinned  slyly  as  he  ran  his  hand  over  the  fat  haunch- 
es of  the  deer. 

“When  thou  hast  need  of  my  canoe  to  pass  the  riv- 
er, or  the  small  one  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  deer,  they 
are  at  thy  service,  only  do  not  ask  me  often  to  lie  to 
his  Reverence : mayhap  it  is  a mortal  sin  to  deceive 
a priest.  Who  knows?  Well, — ’till  another  day!” 

“ ’Till  another  day !”  was  the  response,  and  the  lad 
turned  back  along  the  river  to  the  house  of  a hunter. 
Here  there  was  a litter  of  pups,  from  which  he  had 
been  offered  a choice. 

“They  are  masters,”  the  old  man  said,  as  he  tied 
the  pair  together  and  took  the  thirty  milreis,  which 
was  the  price  of  them.  “They  are  true  as  steel  and 
of  the  best  blood  in  the  country.  They  know  what 
they  know  without  learning,  for  it  is  in  the  blood.” 


Father  Joao 


55 


The  boy  stroked  the  necks  of  the  beautiful  creat- 
ures which  fawned  upon  him  with  immediate  puppy 
faith.  He  knew  that  they  would  need  much  training, 
but  good  blood  is  more  than  half  the  battle— -in  pups 
or  men. 

When  he  reached  his  home,  a deer  lay  across  the 
horse  before  him.  He  had  shot  it  from  the  saddle, 
as  it  bounded  across  the  road.  He  had  found  the 
knack ! 

At  the  end  of  the  month  he  must  go  to  Jahu  to 
dispose  of  the  skins  which  his  rifle  and  his  traps  had 
brought  him.  He  entered  the  town  with  the  hides 
strapped  in  two  bales  on  a pack-horse  which  he  drove 
before  him,  but  he  entered  at  midnight  and  drove  a 
bargain  in  the  saddle  with  a merchant  whose  eyes 
were  heavy  with  sleep,  as  he  leaned  from  the  win- 
dow into  the  night. 

The  hides  sold  cheap— for  all  the  town  knew  of  the 
lad’s  escapade — and  the  payment  was  cash  on  the 
nail,  with  a supply  of  ammunition  to  be  sent  to  him 
on  the  morrow.  Quality  was  guarantied,  and  the  man 
knew  from  former  dealings,  that  the  young  hunter’s 
word  was  good. 

Horacio  rode  away  into  the  night,  well  satisfied 
with  his  month’s  work  while  Francisco  da  Gama  dos 
Santos  rolled  into  bed  equally  satisfied  with  his  mid- 
night bargain. 

During  the  months  that  followed,  Horacio  was  less 
and  less  to  be  found  at  home.  Longer  and  longer 
were  his  absences  and  deeper  and  deeper  he  pene- 
trated into  the  sertao  in  search  of  game. 


56 


Horacio 


He  had  bought  himself  a compass,  as  has  already 
been  said,  and  now  he  learned  to  use  it.  His  know- 
ledge of  forest  craft  grew  as  he  grew,  while  his  dex- 
terity with  his  famous  weapon  increased  with  every 
shot.  His  reputation  at  last  began  to  be  noised  a- 
broad  and  some  little  notoriety  came  to  be  attached 
to  his  name.  At  the  dances  which  were  given  from 
time  to  time  on  the  neighboring  fazendas,  no  one  was 
a more  popular  partner  than  he  or  a more  graceful 
dancer. 

As  for  Anna,  the  arm  healed  in  a short  time  and 
the  girl  proved  to  be  a treasure  in  the  house.  Her 
presence  there,  of  course,  was  soon  rumored  about, 
and  came  to  the  ears  of  Father  Joao  in  Jahu,  along 
with  tales  of  Horacio’s  prowess  and  daring,  and  yet 
it  was  not  safe  for  him  to  go  openly  to  the  town. 

This  did  not  stay  him  from  crossing  the  river,  how- 
ever, and  making  such  excursions  into  the  territory 
of  the  enemy  as  he  desired ; but  to  appear  openly, 
and  with  previous  announcement  of  his  purpose,  was 
more  than  he  thought  it  politic  to  do. 

“Horacio ! There  is  a dance  at  Augustinho’s  to- 
night. ’Tis  Emiliazinha  who  marries,  this  time.  Wilt 
thou  take  us  ?”  pleaded  Eugenia,  one  afternoon,  when 
the  lad  found  himself  at  home  after  a longer  absence 
than  usual. 

He  looked  enquiringly  at  Anna,  who  was  laying  the 
cloth  for  the  jantar.  A flash  of  interest  from  her 
great  black  eyes  lit  up  her  whole  face  and  sufficient- 
ly answered  his  unspoken  question. 

“Yes,”  he  said,  “I’ll  take  ye  both,  and  Anninha,  too.” 


Father  Joao 


5 7 


“ Oh,  what  pleasure ! ” cried  his  sisters,  clapping 
their  hands,  and  running  to  pull  their  few  bits  of  fi- 
nery out  of  odd  corners  where  they  had  bestowed 
them. 

“ Be  quick  about  the  jantar  then,  Anna,  please,” 
he  added.  “ We  must  be  off  at  once.” 

“ Art  thou  not  too  weary  ? ” she  asked,  hesitating- 
ly, as  she  remembered  that  he  was  but  that  moment 
returned  from  a long  trip.  He  shook  his  head  and 
laughed,  showing  two  rows  of  strong  white  teeth. 

“ Not  I ! Didst  thou  ever  know  me  to  be  tired, 
with  the  prospect  of  a baile  before  us  ? ” Then  he 
went  out  and  made  ready  the  horses  and  saddles. 

When  he  returned  the  meal  was  on  the  table  and 
they  all  ate  hastily  and  rode  off.  Horacio  would  glad- 
ly have  taken  Anna  with  him  on  Bonito’s  sturdy  back, 
but  there  were  horses  enough  for  all  of  them.  Anna 
rode  on  her  own  saddle,  which  he  had  given  her  a 
short  time  before,  and  his  sisters  rode,  one  on  a man’s 
saddle,  and  the  other  on  his  mother’s.  The  four- 
leagues  were  covered  in  two  hours  and  a half,  and 
at  seven  they  drew  rein  at  Augustinho’s. 

The  house  was  of  the  better  sort  and,  in  lieu  of 
pole  walls  and  a mud  floor,  with  a roof  of  thatch — 
like  the  home  of  this  party  of  guests — boasted  the 
only  board  floor  in  the  neighborhood,  while  the  walls 
were  of  mud  and  the  roof  of  tiles.  In  one  corner 
there  stood  a little  altar  which  the  women  had  made 
ready  with  bits  of  ribbon,  lace  and  tinsel,  and  candles 
burning  at  the  corners.  The  bride  was  already  dress- 
ed and  the  bridegroom  waiting,  but  Father  Joao  had 


58 


Horacio 


not  yet  appeared,  for  he  was  to  come  from  Jahu  and 
perform  the  ceremony. 

As  Horacio  dismounted  and  lifted  the  girls  from  their 
saddles,  the  priest  rode  up  and  flung  himself  from 
his  horse  without  taking  any  notice  of  the  group  of 
young  people.  The  young  man  was  not  particularly 
anxious  to  see  Father  Joao  and  therefore  stepped  a 
little  out  of  sight  behind  the  horses,  pulling  Anna 
back  of  his  sisters ; but  he  might  have  spared  him- 
self the  trouble,  for  the  priest  had  evidently  already 
seen  them  and  now  came  forward  with  outstretched 
hand  and  genial  smile. 

“ An  embrace  ! —my  young  friend,”  he  said,  heart- 
ily. “ Didst  thou  think  there  was  ill  blood  yet  because 
of  thy  little  escapade  ? So  the  girl  is  in  good  hands, 
I care  not ! And  how  goes  Anninha  ? I believe  thou 
art  filling  out  a bit,  girl.  Better  be  careful  or  thou 
wilt  be  a plump  one,  after  all ! ’’—then  he  added,  sly- 
ly—“ I feared  me  much  ’twas  mischief  thou  wert  up 
to,  lad— hence  my  anxiety,”  and  he  winked  intelligent- 
ly at  Horacio,  “ but  all’s  well  that  ends  well ! Let 
us  go  in ! They  can’t  have  either  the  dance  or  the 
marrying  without  Father  Joao.” 

Horacio  yielded  himself  with  some  hesitation  to  the 
embrace  of  the  burly  padre,  but  Anna  drew  away  and 
would  not  give  him  her  hand.  Eugenia  and  Luiza 
shook  hands  cordially  enough,  and  they  all  entered 
the  house  together,  with  those  who  had  come  out  to 
welcome  them. 

Greetings  from  all  about  them  turned  into  shouts 
of  laughter  as  the  popular  priest  flung  a mischievous 


Father  Joao 


59 


word  and  a glance  here  and  there,  for  he  was  the 
life  of  every  lively  gathering  which  might  be  fortu- 
nate enough  to  secure  his  presence.  The  late  arriv- 
als made  the  circuit  of  the  room  and,  by  this  time, 
coffee  came  for  them  from  the  kitchen,  and  those  who 
were  entertaining  began  to  bustle  about  in  the  final 
preparations  for  the  wedding. 

The  bride,  a bright-looking  young  girl  of  a light 
coffee-and-milk  color,  arrayed  in  her  modest  finery, 
took  her  place  by  the  side  of  a much-embarrassed 
young  caboclo,  before  the  altar,  and  they  were  short- 
ly made  one,  with  the  blessing  of  the  Church  and 
the  payment  of  a substantial  fee  which  the  good  pad- 
re tucked  away  with  an  easy  unconcern  for  the  fact 
that,  no  civil  ceremony  having  been  performed,  owing 
to  the  ignorance  of  the  contracting  parties,  they  would 
be  living  together  in  unlawful  concubinage. 

Evidently  the  ceremony  was  deemed  the  least  im- 
portant event  of  the  evening  by  all  excepting  the  hap- 
py couple  themselves,  and,  scarcely  was  it  over,  ere 
the  steel  strings  of  the  viola  began  to  resound  beneath 
the  nails  and  knuckles  of  a skilful  performer,  while 
an  ancient  black  woman  beat  the  time  upon  a drum 
made  from  a hollowed  log  and  covered  with  a tight- 
ly stretched  membrane. 

No  sooner  were  the  strident  notes  of  the  Brazilian 
guitar  heard  above  the  laughter  and  congratulations, 
than  the  dancers  began  to  move  about  the  floor.  All 
ages  and  colors  mingled  freely  in  the  waltz  and  the 
wall-flowers  were  few.  Horacio  slipped  his  arm  about 
Anna’s  slender  waist,  while  Father  Joao  grasped  the 


60 


Horacio 


blushing  bride  and  drew  her  into  the  shifting  throng. 

The  night  was  warm  and  the  pinga  stood  handily 
by  upon  the  table : while  for  the  ladies  there  was 
wine,  although  some  of  them  disdained  not  the  fiery 
product  of  the  cane.  With  the  constant  draining  of 
the  oft-filled  tumblers,  the  joy  and  hilarity  increased, 
but,  by-and-by,  the  music  stopped  suddenly  and  the 
floor  was  cleared  for  a country  dance  in  which  one 
couple  alone  were  the  performers.  This  was  follow- 
ed by  a duet  of  singers  in  a comic  song,  telling  of 
the  vicissitudes  of  an  African  lover  and  his  lady.  A 
thunderous  applause  rewarded  the  efforts  of  the  sing- 
ers, and  thus  the  fun  went  on. 

Horacio  danced  again  with  Anna,  and  then  Father 
Joao  led  the  girl  out,  while  Horacio  stood  by  and  in- 
wardly cursed  the  priest.  Anna  shrank  away  from 
her  partner  as  well  as  she  cou’d,  and  finally  broke 
from  him  and  slipped  through  the  door,  with  the 
laughing  priest  at  her  heels,  but  Horacio  let  her  pass 
and  blocked  the  way  for  her  pursuer.  Instead  of 
showing  anger,  Father  Joao  burst  into  a perfect  roar 
of  merriment. 

“ Ah,  the  baggage ! She  thinks  only  of  slips  of  lads 
like  thyself.  Let  her  go ! When  art  thou  coming 
over  to  one  of  our  dances  in  Jahu  ? There  is  to  be 
a grand  wedding  this  day  week  at  the  house  of,  the 
fazendeiro,  Silva.” 

“ ’Tis  far — ” stammered  Horacio. 

“ Far ! Not  too  far  for  a bold  rider  like  thyself. 
Dost  fear  to  beard  the  lion — eh  ?” 

“ Fear  ? No  ! ” The  eyes  of  all  in  the  room  were 


Father  Joao 


61 


upon  him  now,  and  the  music  had  ceased  for  an  in- 
stant. “ I shall  not  be  in  the  village  at  the  time. 
That  is  why,  ” he  said,  at  last. 

“ Are  thine  engagements  so  pressing,  indeed  ? I for- 
got that  thou  wert  become  a man  of  business,”  and 
the  malicious  padre  grinned  ironically  at  the  bystand- 
ers. 

Horacio’s  blood  boiled  and  he  felt  that  his  excuse 
was  not  considered  valid.  After  all,- — why  should  he 
not  go  ? A soft  voice  murmured  from  without,  as 
he  stood  in  the  doorway, — “ Do  not  go  ! ” The  priest 
heard,  also,  as  well  as  several  others  of  those  who 
were  standing  near.  Horacio  saw  and  flushed  at 
sight  of  their  amused  smiles. 

“ I will  go ! My  business  can  wait,”  he  cried. 

“Good!”  exclaimed  Father  Joao,  heartily.  “ I can 
promise  thee  a lively  time.” 

Horacio  knew  that  there  was  hidden  meaning  in  his 
words,  but  would  not  give  ear  to  the  voice  of  pru- 
dence. He  turned  to  seek  the  owner  of  the  other 
voice  that  had  warned  him  not  to  go,  but  she  was 
gone  and  he  could  not  find  her.  Returning  to  the 
house,  he  drank  more  pinga  and  danced  with  the 
bride. 

So  the  night  passed,  with  shouts  and  laughter'and 
enebriated  merriment.  Anna  did  not  appear  again, 
and  the  young  man  danced  the  harder  and  drank  the 
deeper.  When  morning  dawned,  the  drum  and  the 
viola  were  still : the  women  had  sought  an  inner  room, 
save  two  or  three  who  lay  sleeping  on  the  floor.  As 
for  the  rest  of  the  dancers,  they  lay  with  the  music- 


62  Horacio 


ians,  prostrate  upon  the  floor  where  they  had  fallen, 
overcome  with  sleep  and — pinga,  oblivious  to  all  for 
the  present. 

At  ten  o’clock  Horacio  sat  up,  with  his  hands  to  his 
aching  head:  then  he  got  upon  his  feet  and  sought 
the  pinga  bottle.  Empty!  Going  to  the  barrel,  he 
filled  a glass  and  drank.  Ah, — that  was  better!  In 
the  kitchen  they  gave  him  coffee,  and  went  to  awak- 
en his  sisters  and  Anna,  but  Anna  was  not  there. 

Going  to  the  curral,  he  found  her  horse  and  saddle 
gone.  Father  Joao  was  also  gone ! Giving  corn  to 
the  animals,  he  bade  his  sisters  make  ready  and  soon 
they  were  on  the  homeward  road.  Here  the  young 
hunter  presently  made  out  the  fresh  tracks’of  Anna’s 
horse,  and  his  mind  grew  easier  on  finding  no  other 
had  passed  along  the  same  road. 

When  they  at  last  reached  the  house,  Anna  was 
laying  the  cloth  for  their  late  breakfast.  The  young 
man  nodded  to  her  but  said  nothing,  and,  having 
breakfasted  heartily,  took  himself  off  with  his  rifle 
and  his  hounds  to  the  woods,  and  that  was  the  last 
they  saw  of  him. 

Great  preparations  were  being  made  for  the  wed- 
ding at  Jahu.  The  family  of  the  bride  was  one  of 
great  consideration  in  the  district  and  the  groom  was 
not  less  highly  appreciated.  The  ceremony  was  con- 
cluded and  the  dancing  had  begun  ere  Horacio  put 
in  an  appearance.  The  first  that  Father  Joao  saw  of 
him  was  a flying  glimpse  as  he  circled  about  the  room 
with  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  town  clasped  in  his  arms. 

A handsome  pair  they  made,  for  both  were  decked 


Father  Joao 


63 


in  their  best,  and  Horacio’s  best  was  now  the  envy 
of  all  the  young  men  of  the  place.  His  form  was 
tall  and  strong  and  his  dark  brown  hair  was  fine  and 
soft,  and  curled  slightly  upon  a forehead  which  be- 
longed to  a face  more  than  usually  intelligent.  A good 
firm  mouth,  ornamented  with  splendid  teeth— Nature’s 
best  gift  to  man — made  up  a most  charming  count- 
enance. An  ungoverned  will  and  a faulty  education 
threatened  to  mar  an  otherwise  gifted  nature. 

The  dance  went  on  as  dances  go.  Instead  of  the 
tom-tom  and  viola  of  the  baile  at  Augustinho’s,  a half 
dozen  stringed  instruments  furnished  the  music,  while 
French  brandy  stood  on  the  side-table,  as  well  as 
pinga,  for  the  guests. 

Horacio  was  one  of  the  lightest  headed,  lightest 
hearted  and  lightest  heeled.  Midnight  came  and  all 
were  reeking  with  perspiration  and  flushed  with  ar- 
dent spirits,  but  no  one  was  weary.  Horacio  stepped 
to  the  door  to  catch  a breath  of  fresh  air.  A group 
of  men  stood  without.  Suddenly  two  of  the  dancers 
blocked  his  way  back  into  the  ball-room,  while  those 
without  barred  his  exit.  Father  Joao  stood  behind 
these  last,  his  tall  form  towering  above  them,  and  he 
leered  triumphantly  at  the  young  man  from  over  their 
shoulders.  Horacio  caught  his  eye  and  the  priest  call- 
ed out  to  him,  with  a malignant  grin : 

“When  we  have  finished  with  thee,  young  man, 
we  set  out  for  the  sitio  to  claim  our  ward ! ” 

The  blood  mounted  instantaneously  to  the  young 
man’s  head,  where  the  brandy  had  already  done  its 
work.  Without  a moment’s  thought,  his  hand  went 


64 


Horacio 


to  his  sash  and  drew  forth  his  garrucha,  which  he 
instantly  discharged  full  at  the  priest’s  breast,  and,  in 
the  confusion  which  followed,  leaped  over  his  body 
and  escaped. 

The  dance  was  over  for  the  night.  Frightened 
women  screamed  and  ran  hither  and  thither.  The 
police  that  had  come  with  the  priest,  raised  his  fallen 
body  and  laid  it  upon  a couch,  while  others  sought 
the  assassin. 


4 

THE  MERCHANT. 


0 R A C I 0 , meanwhile,  had  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness  and,  a 
moment  later,  the  rapid  beat  of  a 
horse’s  hoofs  was  heard  upon  the 
road,  quickly  dying  away  into  si- 
lence. 

Now,  at  last,  the  country  would 
be  too  hot  to  hold  him!  Whither  should  he  go? 
Sobered  by  his  deed  of  violence,  he  pondered  on  the 
course  open  to  him.  Two  roads  lay  before  him  : the 
sertao,  where  he  might  bury  himself  and  seek  refuge 
with  the  Indians,  or  the  haunts  of  men,  where  he 
might  lose  himself  in  the  wildernesses  of  civilization. 

All  his  nature  drew  him  toward  the  sertao,  but  it 
was  there  that  his  pursuers  would  first  seek  him ; so, 
with  a resolute  heart,  he  turned  Bonito’s  head  toward 
Sao  Paulo  and  the  unknown,  untried  ways  of  civil- 
ization. 


66 


Horacio 


As  morning  broke  he  entered  the  city  of  Brotas, 
weary  and  disturbed  in  his  mind  as  to  the  future. 
As  the  first  house  of  the  town  appeared  in  the  dis- 
tance, he  put  his  hand  to  his  pocket  and  found  but 
a bit  of  loose  change.  Besides  this  he  had  but  a sil- 
ver-mounted knife  and  spurs,  and  the  garrucha  in  his 
belt.  At  any  rate,  he  would  have  a drink  of  pinga, 
and  perhaps  that  would  give  clearness  to  his  brain 
and  decision  to  his  mind. 

He  flung  his  reins  upon  the  ground  and  entered 
the  first  venda  which  he  saw,  calling  for  a glass  of 
cachaca.  The  woman  who  kept  the  place  was  a home- 
ly body,  and  so  he  asked  her  for  a cup  of  coffee  and 
a bit  of  bread,  and  sat  on  a box  to  rest  himself  and 
await  their  preparation. 

Presently  two  soldiers  entered  and  ordered  drinks 
at  the  counter.  One  was  a petty  officer  and  the  oth- 
er a private.  The  two  conversed  in  an  undertone 
and  glanced  stealthily  at  the  lad  once  or  twice. 

Horacio  was  not  caring  for  police  or  soldiers  just 
at  that  particular  time,  so  he  thought  he  would  bet- 
ter be  going,  and  therefore  turned  to  the  woman  to 
pay  his  reckoning,  without  waiting  for  his  coffee. 
As  he  did  so,  the  private  went  out,  but  returned  be- 
fore the  woman  could  make  the  change. 

“ How  would  you  like  to  enter  the  ranks,  young 
man?”  the  officer  asked,  in  friendly  tones.  “We  are 
short  a few  men,  and  there  is  a pretty  chance  for 
promotion  now  these  canalha  of  liberals  are  giving 
us  so  much  trouble  in  the  South.” 

“ Obliged,  but  I don’t  care  to  enlist,”  replied  Hor- 


The  Merchant 


67 


ado,  shortly,  and,  gathering  up  the  nickel  coins  which 
the  woman  laid  upon  the  counter,  tried  to  slip  away 
toward  the  door. 

“ Not  so  fast ! Not  so  fast,  young  fellow,”  the  of- 
ficer cried  out,  sharply — his  tone  changing.  “ Better 
change  your  mind  about  going  with  us.  No  ? ” 

Horacio  shook  his  head  deddedly  and  made  a move 
to  go  out.  As  he  reached  the  door,  however,  the 
private  blocked  the  way.  A flush  of  anger  crimsoned 
the  young  man’s  face  and  he  snatched  his  long  keen 
knife  from  his  belt.  The  soldier  gave  way  instantly 
before  his  threatening  blade,  but  a squad  of  men 
with  fixed  bayonets  stood  without,  and  formed  a semi- 
circle about  the  door. 

“ Put  up  that  knife,  my  boy ! Wilt  thou  go  with 
good  will  or  shall  we  bind  thee  ? ” asked  the  officer, 
blandly. 

Horacio  glanced  about  him  like  a wild  beast  at  bay, 
but,  unlike  the  beast,  gave  in  to  the  odds  against  him 
and  pushed  his  knife  back  into  its  sheath. 

“ Better  take  the  coffee  now,  and  we  shall  be  go- 
ing,” said  the  officer,  smiling  grimly,  as  though  well 
used  to  this  sort  of  jest.  “ And,  if  that  is  thy  nag,” 
he  added,  looking  Bonito  over  with  a knowing  eye, 
“ he  shall  go  along  with  thee  and  we  shall  put  thee 
in  the  cavalry.” 

Fierce  anger  burned  in  Horacio’s  heart  at  this  sum- 
mary disposal  of  his  comrade  and  himself,  but,  after 
all,  what  did  it  matter?  Were  not  all  his  doubts  now 
resolved  and  he  himself  safe  ? For  he  knew  that 
the  army  was  short  of  men  and  would  not  brook  any 


68 


Horacio 


interference  by  the  police.  Better  accept  what  for- 
tune had  brought  and  not  conjure  up  fresh  troubles ! 

Putting  good  grace,  therefore,  on  a bad  matter,  he 
went  cheerfully  enough  with  the  officer,  and,  shortly 
afterward,  Horacio  de  Castro  was  enrolled  as  a cav- 
alry private  in  the  Battalion  of  Nossa  Senhora  do 
Carmo,  for  the  war  in  Rio  Grande  do  Sul. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  follow  Horacio  during  the 
campaign  in  the  South,  nor  during  the  long  bit  of 
soldier-life  which  followed.  The  campaign  itself  was 
not  long,  but  it  was  hard,  and  he  was  often  under 
fire.  In  the  drill  he  learned  discipline,  self-control 
and  obedience : in  the  army  school  he  learned  read- 
ing, writing  and  arithmetic,  and,  as  a member  of  the 
band  while  the  troops  were  not  in  active  service,  he 
learned  how  to  read  music. 

Physically  he  grew  tall  and  strong  and  straight,  but 
he  did  not  grow  rich,  for  the  Government  but  ill  re- 
wards its  fighting -arm,  and  that  but  seldom. 

Thanks  to  the  counsels  of  a veteran  who  took  a 
friendly  interest  in  him,  he  let  drink  well  alone  and 
saw  many  a good  soldier  ruined  for  not  doing  the 
same. 

The  day  of  his  discharge  came  at  last,  and  he  laid 
aside  a sergeant’s  chevrons  and  the  good  will  of  his 
comrades,  in  order  that  he  might  seek  his  home,  and 
the  great  black  eyes  which  he  had  not  seen  for  years, 
although  they  had  been  drawing  him — drawing  him, 
all  the  time,  toward  the  thin,  sallow  face  of  Anninha. 
Not  a word  had  come  to  him  of  home  or  friends  dur- 
ing the  three  or  four  years  of  his  absence ; for  news 


The  Merchant  69 


does  not  travel  fast  among  the  illiterate. 

Bonito  had  been  drafted  with  his  master  and  now, 
by  a little  friendly  jugglery,  was  invalided  out  again, 
and  bore  him  on  his  long  way  from  Sao  Paulo  Bar- 
racks to  the  sertao. 

How  his  heart  bounded  within  him  as  he  set  out 
upon  his  long  journey ! Now  at  last  he  was  a man, 
and  would  take  his  place  as  a man  in  the  world.  In 
his  pocket  were  a couple  of  hundred  milreis,  and  the 
Government  owed  him  four  hundred  more — which  he 
was  never  to  see  : at  home  there  ought  to  be  his  little, 
hidden  treasure,  which  only  Anna  knew  where  to 
find.  He  would  buy  a bit  of  land  and  build  him  a 
bit  of  a house,  and  then-— ah  then ! — he  would  settle 
down  and  be  a serious  householder — if  they  would 
let  him  ! 

Then  he  remembered  those  words  of  Padre  Joao, 
--the  last  he  had  heard  from  his  lips— but  the  Padre 
was  dead : he  had  left  him  with  a charge  of  buckshot 
in  his  breast — the  treacherous  hypocrite  ! — and  was 
not  yet  regretting  the  deed. 

Thus  he  mused,  and  hope  flowed  and  ebbed  as  it 
had  done  many  a time  during  three  years,  only  now 
the  tide  rose  higher  and  fell  lower  than  ever  before, 
and  the  sun  was  at  once  brighter  and  darker  than  it 
had  ever  been  pefore. 

So  he  rode  on,  but  he  did  not  go  to  Brotas  and 
Jahu ; no,  he  'crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  Tiete 
and  went  through  Sorocoba,  Botucatu,  Sao  Manoel 
and  Len^oes,  and  thus  he  reached  the  sertao  at  last, 
and  his  heart  expanded  and  his  breath  came  deeper 


70 


Horacio 


and  faster  as  he  left  the  thickly  settled  districts,  the 
coffee  groves  and  the  close-joined  farms,  and  hour 
after  hour  rode  beneath  forest  giants,  with  clinging 
parasites  and  hanging  vines ; and  heard  the  parrots 
chatter,  and  saw  his  old  enemies,  the  monkeys,  leap 
from  bough  to  bough. 

The  pleasant  monotony  of  the  never  ending  rows 
of  rich  green  coffee  trees  was  gone,  with  their  nest- 
ling colonies  of  laborers,  and  the  great  terreiros  for 
drying  the  fragrant  berries.  Only  the  occasional 
shout  of  the  men  who  ran  with  the  oxen  that  drag- 
ged the  sacks  of  coffee  from  some  outlying  sitio,  ming- 
led with  the  voices  of  the  forest,  except  that  the  dis- 
tant squeaking  of  the  cart  itself  pervaded  the  atmos- 
phere like  the  music  of  a circular  saw  cutting  through 
a sheet  of  tin  to  the  accompaniment  of  a small  pig 
under  a gate,  and  both  to  the  time  of  Old  Hundred. 
A cessation  of  the  awful  concert  would  be  an  unwel- 
come bit  of  peace  to  the  unhappy  carter,  as  it  would 
mean  the  instant  charring  of  the  wooden  axles  in  their 
wooden  boxes. 

Even  this  dubious  melody  came  to  the  traveler’s 
ears  with  a grateful  sound,  when  it  was  far  enough 
away  to  be  somewhat  mellowed  by  the  distance. 

The  voices  of  the  forest  seemed  to  welcome  him 
back  to  his  old  haunts,  yet  they  could  not  have  re- 
cognized him  now,  for  a soft  brown  beard  covered 
his  sunburned  face,  and  he  was  broader  and  taller 
and  altogether  different  from  the  Horacio  of  the  old 
times. 

Thus  he  left  station  after  station  behind  him  and 


The  Merchant  7 1 


drew  ever  closer  under  the  cloak  of  the  sertao,  and 
came  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  sitio.  At  last  he  reach- 
ed the  well  known  point  where  the  road  turned  off 
to  find  it,  but  when  he  had  reached  it,  he  came  to 
an  abrupt  halt  and  looked  about  him  in  dismay. 

Yes, —there  was  the  road,  but  it  was  now  quite 
grown  up  with  capoeira  and  only  an  ill  defined  path 
led  into  the  depths  of  the  forest.  What  could  this 
mean?  His  heart  grew  sick  as  his  welcome  began 
to  fade  away  and  hope  ebbed  again. 

But  there  was  no  use  standing  there  like  a bobo 
at  the  crossroads  ! Thrusting  Bonito  with  his  spurs, 
he  dashed  forward  along  the  narrow  frail,  dodging 
and  ducking  to  avoid  the  branches,  and  slashing  with 
bis  knife  where  they  hung  too  low.  All  the  way  a- 
long  he  was  cheering  himself  with  the  thought  that, 
of  course,  they  had  cut  another  and  a nearer  road 
out,  and  discarded  the  old. 

Three  hours  from  the  time  he  left  the  main  road, 
he  debouched  into  the  clearing  and  gazed  about  him. 
Bonito  also  looked  at  the  once  familiar  scene  with 
evident  amazement  and  distrust : then  he  lifted  his 
head  high  and  whinnied  sadly,  but  without  reply. 

A mass  of  charred  ruins  marked  the  spot  where 
the  buildings  had  been.  The  mud  floor  of  the  house 
stood  above  the  level  of  the  earth  about  it,  and  its 
hard  surface  still  showed  the  inequalities  which  his 
feet— and  Anna’s  too,  alas ! — had  helped  to  wear. 

He  flung  himself  from  the  horse  and  left  him  to 
graze  where  he  would,  with  trailing  reins,  for  Bonito, 
not  being  a misanthrope,  had  already  forgotten  his  lack 


72 


Horacio 


of  a welcome  and  was  busy  nibbling  here  and  there 
at  the  green  grass. 

Horacio  mounted  the  steps  and  entered  the  area 
once  occupied  by  the  house.  Not  a vestige  of  furn- 
iture remained  or  aught  to  remind  one  of  the  indi- 
viduality of  the  former  dwellers  there,  yet  the  uneven 
dirt  floor  appealed  to  him  as  though  it  might  mutely 
speak  of  those  who  had  trodden  it  so  often,  and  now 
were  gone,  he  knew  not  where. 

His  eyes  filled  and  he  turned  hastily  away  toward 
the  plantation,  which  was  now  wildly  overgrown  with 
the  capoeira  of  at  least  three  years.  So  it  had  come 
soon  after  his  departure  ! Then  he  remembered  the 
threat  of  Father  Joao.  Could  he  be  living  still  ? 
For  the  first  time  since  he  had  seen  the  burly  priest 
lying  prone  upon  the  earth,  before  the  door  of  the 
ball-room  in  Jahu,  a dark  presentiment  and  ugly  fear 
came  upon  him,  and  yet  it  seemed  as  though  it  could 
not  be. 

He  remembered  the  trouble  with  the  savages,  that 
had  boiled  beneath  the  surface  for  so  many  months. 
Surely  it  must  have  been  they  who  had  wrought  this 
devastation  ! A thousand  times  better — 

Turning  away  from  the  coffee  that  was  scarce  vis- 
ible, and  from  the  corn-field  that  was  a jungle,  he 
sat  upon  the  old  chopping-block  and  bowed  his  head 
in  his  hands. 

Not  a sound  broke  the  silence  save  the  jingle  of 
Bonito’s  bit  as  he  munched  the  grass,  the  shrill  call 
of  the  macuco  and  the  metallic  “tank  ! tank  ! ” of  the 
araponga,  which  came  from  the  forest. 


The  Merchant 


73 


A deer  bounded  suddenly  out  of  the  wood,  and  as 
suddenly  vanished  at  sight  of  the  intruders.  Horacio 
raised  his  head  and,  with  dull  misery  gnawing  at  his 
heart,  drew  the  saddle  from  Bonito’s  back  and  began 
to  make  a fire,  although  he  knew  not  what  he  should 
use  it  for,  having  nothing  with  him  save  a bit  of  dry 
bread. 

Following  the  old  trail  to  the  cafezal ; cutting  the 
green  growth  as  he  passed,  in  order  to  push  his  way 
through,  he  found  an  abundance  of  ripe  mamao.  It 
would  help  out  the  bread  a bit  to  have  this  fruit  and 
in  the  morning  he  would  return — but  whither? 

There  are  dropping-off  places  in  our  lives,  and  Hor- 
acio was  come  to  one  of  these.  Yet  he  must  make 
up  his  mind  to  go  somewhere  or  starve,  for  there 
was  nothing  at  the  old  sitio  to  satisfy  hunger,  unarm- 
ed as  he  was  and  unable  to  provide  himself  with 
game  of  any  sort.  Should  he  buy  himself  a gun  and 
go  back  to  his  old  trade  again  ? Somehow  his  heart 
revolted  at  the  thought  of  seeking  the  solitude  of  the 
forest  in  his  great  loneliness. 

Thus  he  fell  asleep,  wrapped  in  his  heavy  pala,  in 
a turmoil  of  conflicting  emotions,  and  with  the  matter 
still  undecided,  to  awake  at  break  of  day  to  finish 
his  mamaos  and  gallop  off  on  Bonito  toward  the  civ- 
ilization which  he  had  so  lately  left. 

Not  long  after  he  had  reached  the  main  road,  he 
came  upon  a man  traveling  in  a direction  opposite  to 
his  own.  The  stranger  saluted  him  and  checked  his 
horse  as  Horacio  drew  rein. 

“ Bom  dia ! ” he  said,  in  response  to  the  ex-cavalry- 


T\ 


Horacio 


man’s  salutation. 

“Can  you  tell  me  if  there  is  a fazendeiro  in  the 
vicinity,  of  the  name  of  Castro  ? ” the  young  man  asked 
him  ; hoping  against  hope  for  some  news  of  his  people. 

“ Castro,-— Castro  ? ” the  other  mused,  “ that  would 
be  Antonio  Garda  de  Castro— -no  ? ” 

“ No,”  replied  Horacio,  trying  not  to  betray  his  eag- 
erness, “ the  man  I am  seeking  is  one  Jose  Antonio 
de  Castro.” 

“ Ah,  now  I know  ! ” cried  the  other,  his  face  light- 
ing with  comprehension,  “ he  lived  five  leagues  from 
here,  on  Riberao  Velho.  ’ Tis  three  years  now  since 
the  bugres  wiped  out  the  fazenda  and  all  that  were 
on  it,  except  the  son  who  shot  the  priest  at  Jahu 
and  got  away.  Father  Joao  would  give  a pretty  pen- 
ny, I warrant,  to  get  his  fingers  on  him.” 

Horacio  started  and  then  restrained  himself.  “Fath- 
er Joao  was  the  priest  who  was  shot,  was  he  ? ” he 
asked,  with  what  indifference  he  could  assume. 

“ Ay, —the  job  was  well  done,  too,  and  he  like  to 
have  died  of  it,  for  there  were  seven  buckshot  in 
him,  but  although  he  was  so  well  perforated,  his  soul 
did  not  get  out,  and  he  got  well  at  last,  after  he  had 
spent  twenty  contos  on  the  doctors,  and  cheap  at  that, 
for  he  lay  fourteen  months  on  his  bed  ere  he  could 
move.” 

An  exultant  thrill  of  savage  satisfaction  ran  over 
the  young  man  as  he  thanked  the  stranger  and  rode 
on.  Better  far  that  Anna  and  all  the  rest  had  per- 
ished at  the  hands  of  the  savages  or  in  the  flames  of 
the  burning  buildings  ! Better  for  all  to  be  over  than 


The  Merchant 


75 


that  worse  things  had  befallen  them ! 

He  rode  on  his  way  with  a bleeding  heart  and  yet 
with  a strange  feeling  of  thankfulness,  stopping  only 
for  refreshment  here  and  there,  until  he  reached  Sao 
Manoel,  a large  and  beautiful  town  set  against  the 
sloping  hillside  like  clustered  corn  upon  the  ear. 

Weary  and  objectless  he  took  his  disheartened  way 
along  the  street,  when  a hearty  voice  called  him  by 
name,  and,  looking  up,  he  saw  a man  of  soldierly 
bearing,  whom  he  at  once  recogfnized  as  the  colonel 
he  had  often  served  as  orderly.  His  hand  went  up 
instantly  in  salute. 

“ Whither  art  thou  bound,  Horacio  ? ” the  officer 
enquired,  affably,  as  the  young  man  dismounted  and 
stood  before  him. 

“ I am  but  now  returned  from  the  sertao,  where  I 
sought  my  family,  but  but they  are  all  gone.” 

“What,— moved  away?  So  thou  art  seeking  them 
now  ? ” 

“ No,  senhor,”  he  replied,  gulping  hard  at  the  sound 
of  the  first  friendly  voice,  “ they  are  dead— all  dead. 
Slain  by  the  Indians ! ” 

“ What ! Oh,— I am  sorry.  When  did  it  happen  ? 
What  wilt  thou  do  ? ” 

“I  know  not  what  I shall  do,  senhor,  unless  I re- 
turn to  the  army.  The  matter  happened  long  ago,” 
replied  Horacio,  reversing  the  order  of  his  answers, 
and  then  he  told  him  of  the  attack  by  the  Indians. 

“ ’ Twould  be  well  thought  to  enlist  again,  but, — - 
stay  a moment ! — I have  an  idea.  Hast  thou  a talent 
for  business  ? I know  thee  to  be  sober  and  honest. 


76 


Horacio 


There  is  a venda  on  my  place  here,  which  is  about 
to  change  hands.  If  thou  carest  to  buy  it,  thou  canst 
get  it  at  a low  figure.” 

“ I have  but  two  hundred  milreis  and  the  four  hun- 
dred odd  that  the  Government  owes  me,”  objected 
Horacio,  doubtfully. 

“ Hum ! The  four  hundred  are  a thing  of  the  fu- 
ture— distant  future.  We  would  best  not  consider 
them.  But,  look  ! If  my  credit  can  serve  thee,  we 
shall  strike  a bargain.  Come  on  with  me ! ” 

Carried  along  by  the  enthusiasm  of  his  colonel,  the 
young  man  led  his  horse  by  the  reins  and  followed 
him  as  he  made  his  way  to  his  own  house.  The  of- 
ficer owned  a fazenda  near  by,  as  well  as  his  own 
house  in  town  and  a number  of  others,  which  he  let. 
Among  these  last  was  a small  venda,  or  shop,  which 
had  changed  hands  often,  to  the  great  loss  of  rentals, 
and  so  the  provident  Colonel  had  thought  of  the  ex- 
cavalryman as  a steady  tenant  for  the  place. 

The  venda  was  small  affair,  but  it  was  capable  of 
expansion  under  an  energetic  hand,  and  much  busi- 
ness came  to  the  town.  Horacio  looked  the  place  o- 
ver  and,  foot-free  as  he  was,  easily  came  to  a decis- 
ion. He  gave  his  ready  cash  and  a note  for  the  re- 
maining five  hundred  milreis  of  the  purchase  price — 
which  the  Colonel  guarantied — and  was  put  in  im- 
mediate possession  of  the  place  ; so  that  the  hunter 
and  soldier  was  now  become  a merchant. 

Back  of  the  venda  were  living-rooms,  and  the  young 
man  hunted  an  old  woman  to  cook  and  clean  for 
him.  Trade  grew  with  thrift,  and  Horacio  was  pop- 


The  Merchant  7 7 


ular.  The  place  soon  came  to  be  a resort  for  loung- 
ers in  the  evenings  and  brisk  trade  in  the  daytime, 
and  the  proprietor  was  busy  enough  to  be  kept  from 
dwelling  on  matters  of  which  it  were  better  not  to 
think.  Alas  ! — that  which  is  without  remedy  is  rem- 
edied already. 

The  Colonel’s  furlough  was  soon  over  and  he  was 
gone.  The  life  of  one  day  was  very  like  the  life  of 
another.  In  the  morning  the  caipiras  passed  and  he 
bought  fresh  vegetables,  sugar,  cheese,  tobacco  and 
cacha^a,  or  else  he  left  his  shop  in  the  care  of  his 
ancient  housekeeper  and  sought  the  wholesaler  for 
matches,  twine  and  other  manufactured  goods.  As 
his  trade  grew,  his  stock  grew  with  it,  and  some  day 
soon  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  pay  his  debt  and  accum- 
ulate a surplus. 

One  day  a peddler  entered  the  shop  and  stood  by 
the  doorway,  wiping  his  sweaty  brow  with  a great 
bandanna  handkerchief.  Horacio  looked  at  the  man 
with  some  interest.  He  was  old  and  as  black  as  Af- 
ric  darkness,  and  his  grizzled  hair  and  beard  stood 
out  in  contrast  with  his  dusky  skin.  His  eyes  were 
covered  with  a pair  of  huge  blue  spectacles,  and  his 
legs  protected  with  high  boots.  Jingling  spurs  drag- 
ged at  his  heels,  for  he  rode  a mule  and  carried  his 
wares  in  a mala  made  of  stout  cloth,  a double-ended 
sack,  in  fact,  which  hung  across  his  saddle,  loaded  at 
both  ends.  This  he  laid  upon  the  counter  with  his 
pala ; gazing  slowly  about  the  room  as  he  mopped 
his  brow. 

“ Does  the  senhor  read  ?”  he  asked,  in  kindly  tones, 


78 


Horacio 


as  he  drew  a number  of  books  from  one  end  of  the 
mala. 

“ Yes,”- replied  the  young  merchant.  “What  have 
you  there  ? Romances  ? ” 

“ Better  than  that,  my  young  friend — better  than 
that ! I have  here  the  secret  of  a happy  life,  the  key 
to  infinite  treasures,  the  guide  to  Heaven.” 

The  old  negro  crooned  the  words  in  a sort  of  mel- 
low rythm  and  Horacio  smiled  in  intellectual  patron- 
age. So  the  old  man  was  but  half-baked  ! —-but  he 
would  see  what  he  had,  at  any  rate.  Perhaps  some 
volume  to  while  away  the  hours, — for  he  had  no  book 
of  his  own.  The  stranger  laid  out  a number  of  books 
of  all  sizes  and  styles. 

“ I cannot  afford  one  of  these,”  said  Horacio,  shak- 
ing his  head  positively,  “ all  leather  and  gold.” 

The  peddler  chuckled  to  himself  as  if  it  were  a huge 
joke.  “ Pauh  ! ” he  ejaculated.  “ Business  bad  in  this 
part  of  the  country?  Cannot  afford  two  milreis  to 
learn  the  way  of  life?  Here  is  a fine  one, — large 
type  and  good  binding.  Only  two  milreis  ! It  costs 
more  than  that,  sor,  to  make  it  up,  but  they  sell  it 
cheap,  and  at  a loss,  that  everyone  may  have  a chance 
to  get  it.  Take  the  book,  for  I cannot  stop  long.  I 
must  push  on  to  Botucatu.” 

Horacio  turned  the  large  and  handsome  volume 
over  and  over  in  his  hand.  On  the  back,  in  letters 
of  gold,  was  a single  word,  “ BIBLIA  So  this  was 
the  Bible, — a book  he  scarcely  knew  by  reputation, 
and  that  reputation  only  evil.  Curiosity  mastered 
him.  He  would  investigate.  Drawing  a ragged  bit  of 


The  Merchant 


79 


paper  money  from  the  till,  he  handed  it  to  the  old 
negro,  who  immediately  repacked  his  books  and  rode 
on,  while  the  lad  set  the  volume  on  a shelf  and  gave 
his  attention  to  customers  who  had  entered. 

When  leisure  came,  as  it  did  come  by  spells,  he 
read  the  book,  beginning  at  the  first  page,  and  found 
it  of  some  interest,  although  all  of  it  did  not  seem 
clear  to  him.  Here  and  there  he  came  upon  a fam- 
iliar phrase  or  story,  the  origin  of  which  he  had  never 
known  before,  and  he  marveled  much  that  this  book, 
of  which  he  had  heard  so  much  evil  spoken,  should 
have,  written  on  the  title  page  : 

“TRANSLATED  INTO  PORTUGUESE  ACCORD- 
ING TO  THE  LATIN  VULGATE  BY  PADRE  AN- 
TONIO PEREIRA  DE  FIGUEIREDO.  Edition  ap- 
proved in  1842  by  QUEEN  MARY  II,  consulting 
with  the  PATRIARCH  ARCHBISHOP-ELECT  of  Lis- 
bon.” 

Why  should  a padre  translate  what  was  evil  into 
the  vulgar  tongue  ? But  perhaps  it  was  to  sell  the 
book  and  raise  money  for  the  Church.  At  any  rate, 
he  was  not  predisposed  in  favor  ot  the  padres  and 
would  see  for  himself  what  there  was  in  the  book. 
So  he  went  on  to  read  of  Abraham  and  Joseph  and 
Moses  and  David  and  Solomon,  and  then  he  did  not 
seem  to  understand  very  much  of  what  followed. 

Now  there  was  an  old  man  who  came  that  way  at 
times,  and  sat  in  his  doorway  on  a barrel  that  stood 
there,  to  pass  the  time  of  day  with  him  and  chat  a- 
bout  one  thing  or  another.  He  never  bought  much 
of  anything,  and  it  did  not  seem  likely  that  he  had 


80 


Horacio 


wherewithal  to  buy.  Horacio  liked  the  old  man,  but 
he  was  evil  spoken  of  in  the  neighborhood. 

One  day  the  old  fellow  stopped  at  the  door  while 
Horacio  was  reading.  The  young  man  glanced  up, 
and,  nodding  in  a friendly  way,  returned  to  his  book. 

“ Understandest  thou  what  thou  readest  ? ” of  a sud- 
den, the  old  man  asked. 

The  shopkeeper  looked  up  again  and  laughed  as  he 
ran  the  pages  through  his  fingers.  “ The  book  is  di- 
verting. Part  of  it  is  funny  and  part  is  full  of  tales. 
Just  now  I have  come  to  a place  where  I understand 
nothing,  but  I am  not  half  done  yet.” 

“Turn  on  a bit  further,  my  boy,  and  start  afresh 
at  the  Gospel  of  Matthew,  and,  if  thou  dost  not  un- 
derstand, let  me  know  when  I pass  again,”  and  the 
old  man  took  his  cane  and  moved  slowly  off  down 
the  street. 

Horacio  was  surprised  to  find  that  his  friend  was 
acquainted  with  the  book,  but  he  looked  a bit  further 
along  through  its  pages  and  came  to  a place  where 
he  saw  the  words,  “ Sao  Mattheus”,  at  the  beginning 
of  a chapter,  so  he  paused  there  and  began  to  read. 

At  first  he  thought  that  the  old  man  had  been  di- 
verting himself  at  his  expense,  for  he  came  upon  a 
long  list  of  names  that  he  could  not  pronounce,  or 
understand,  but  afterwards  he  came  upon  a story, 
and,  as  he  read,  the  interest  grew. 

When  the  old  man  came  again  he  had  many  ques- 
tions to  ask  him,  and  the  old  man  told  him  why  all 
the  stories  were  in  the  book  and  what  it  all  meant. 

At  first  Horacio  did  not  believe  and  was  only  in- 


The  Merchant 


81 


terested,  but  there  came  a time  at  last  when  he  knew 
that  the  book  was  written  for  him,  and  that  he  could 
never  more  have  peace  in  the  old  life. 

“ How  comes  it  that  you  know  of  the  book  and  the 
meaning  of  it,  Sor  Jose?  ” he  asked  one  day,  in  won- 
der. 

“ Ah,— I have  known  these  many  years.  Our  breth- 
ren of  North  America  came  down  to  tell  us  the  good 
news.  There  was  one,  Meestare  Shambareleen  1 , that 
went  on  horseback  through  all  this  country  to  the 
sertao,  telling  the  Way  of  Life  ; and  I went  with  him 
to  care  for  the  animals,  which  was  no  light  and  pleas- 
ant task,  either,  I tell  you  ! — not  the  caring  for  the 
horses — that  was  nothing ! but  the  other  : for  they 
stoned  him  and  reviled  him  and  drove  him  from  the 
towns,  yet  he  showed  no  fear.  So  we  went  from 
place  to  place,  and  I heard  him  speak  and  plead  with 
men,  and  set  before  them  the  Way  of  Life,  until  God 
took  away  the  heart  of  stone  that  was  in  me,  and 
put  in  its  place  a heart  of  flesh.  Since  then  I have 
grown  old  studying  the  Book.” 

“ And  what  of  this  Meestare  Sham — Sham— how  do 
you  call  it  ? Where  is  he  now  ? ” 

“Shambareleen  is  the  name.  He  has  gone  to  an- 
other field  in  the  North.  But  there  are  others  of  the 
North  Americans,  and  now  there  are  Brazilians  who 
do  the  same.  Here  in  Sao  Manoel  there  is  no  one, 
save  myself  only.” 

Thus  the  days  went  by,  and  what  with  Jose  Cap- 
itao  and  what  with  the  Book,  Horacio  was  brought 
to  the  feet  of  the  Saviour  with  conviction  of  sin,  and 


1 The  late  Rev.  Geo.W.  Chamberlain,  D.  D.,  to  whcse  Christian  enthusiasm  and 
devotion  the  Protestant  Church  in  Brazil  owes  such  a lasting  debt. 


82 


Horacio 


there  he  found  hope  and  forgiveness. 

One  night  the  Lord  Christ  called  him,  and  he  an- 
swered, “ Yes,  Lord— what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do?” 
and  the  answer  came,  “ I would  have  thee  preach  to 
thy  people,  which  are  my  people.  I need  thee  for 
Brazil.” 

Then  Horacio  fall  asleep  in  peace  and  awoke  a new 
creature,  with  a new  hope,  a new  joy,  a new  faith, 
and  some  great  problems  to  resolve. 

That  day  Jose  Capitao  came  again  and  Horacio  had 
many  more  questions  to  ask  him,  but  the  old  man 
saw  by  his  face  that  he  was  born  anew  and  took  him 
to  his  breast  in  a warm  embrace,  while  the  tears  of 
joy  filled  his  old  eyes  brim  full. 

“ Where  can  one  go,  Sor  Jose,  to  learn  of  the 
Book  ? I want  to  study,  so  that  I can  explain  it  to 
others,”  he  finally  managed  to  ask  him. 

“ Oh,— there  is  the  American  School  at  Sao  Paulo, 
and  then  the  Theological  Seminary— but  all  that  takes 
money.” 

“Yes,  but  how  long  must  I study — six  months?  — 
a year  ? ” 

“ More  than  that.  More  than  that.  I fancy  it  must 
take  four  or  five  years  at  least.” 

“ Five  years  ! Ah,  that  is  much.  How  can  I study 
for  five  years  ? ” 

“ The  Lord  will  provide.  If  He  needs  thee  for  the 
work,  He  will  surely  open  the  way.” 

“ Oh,  I must  go  ! There  is  no  other  way.  If  I be- 
gin, will  He  do  the  rest  ? ” 

“ Thou  canst  but  try  Him,  lad.  His  promises  are 


The  Merchant 


83 


sure.” 

“Then  I will  try  Him  at  once,”  said  the  young  con- 
vert, firmly,  and  began  to  move  about  the  shop  with 
a sheet  of  paper  and  a pencil,  counting  the  things  on 
the  shelves. 

“ What  art  thou  doing,”  asked  old  Jose,  in  wonder. 

“I  am  counting  up  what  I have,  in  order  that  I 
may  sell  it  to  advantage,”  he  replied. 

“ Not  so  fast ! Not  so  fast ! Better  look  ahead 
and  count  the  cost.” 

“ I have  counted  the  cost.  Doth  not  the  Book  say 
that  the  just  shall  live  by  faith  ? My  people  have 
walked  in  darkness  too  long.” 

“ But  thy  friends  and  thy  family  ? Hast  thou  not 
obligations  to  them  ? ” 

“ They  are  all  gone.  I owe  no  man  anything  save 
the  debt  that  is  on  this  shop,  and  that  I shall  pay.” 
Suddenly,  as  he  spoke  these  words,  a memory  seized 
him  of  the  priest,  Father  Joao,  but  he  shook  it  off. 
Then  he  went  on  with  his  rude  inventory  and  soon 
was  able  to  estimate  that  his  stock  and  the  goodwill 
of  the  business-— which  were  now  of  much  greater 
value  than  when  he  took  the  place — ought  to  pay  his 
debt  and  leave  him  with  five  or  six  hundred  milreis 
in  hand. 

The  Old  man  took  his  departure  soon,  after  press- 
ing his  hand  warmly  and  again  cautioning  him  against 
undue  haste.  Horacio  closed  the  shop-door  in  the 
face  of  custom,  and  went  to  make  a trade  with  one 
who  had  desired  a partnership  with  him  for  some 
time. 


84 


Horacio 


Shortly  afterwards  he  returned  with  the  prospect- 
ive purchaser,  to  show  him  the  place.  A bargain 
was  finally  concluded,  which  liquidated  the  debt,  and 
gave  the  retiring  young  merchant  six  hundred  milreis. 
Possession  was  to  be  given  the  next  day,  but  the 
new  proprietor  came  behind  the  counter  at  once. 

The  only  thing  which  remained  to  be  done  was  to 
write  a letter  to  the  Colonel,  and  on  this  task  Horacio 
spent  his  evening. 


5 

THE  CONVICT. 


0 R A C I 0 lay  upon  his  bed  that 
night,  turning  many  plans  and  pro- 
jects in  his  brain,  when,  suddenly, 
the  thought  of  Father  Joao  came 
to  him  again.  Would  it  be  right 
and  becoming  for  a minister  of  the 
Gospel  to  go  about  with  such  a 
matter  hanging  over  him  ? Would  not  the  Gospel 
be  brought  to  shame  if  some  man  should  stand  out 
and  point  his  finger  at  him  and  say, — “ Satisfy  the 
State  for  thy  crime  ere  thou  speak  in  that  Name  ! ” 
Now  Horacio  had  never  felt  one  least  atom  of  re- 
gret for  what  he  had  done  until  he  had  been  con- 
strained by  the  love  of  Christ  to  lay  this  sin  at  the 
Saviour’s  feet,  and  he  knew  that  the  Blood  had  wash- 
ed away  the  stain,  but  that  knowledge  did  not  give 
him  rest  and  peace.  Divine  Justice  was  satisfied,  but 
human  justice  still  cried  out  for  atonement. 


86 


Horacio 


Why  need  anyone  know?  He  could  change  his 
name,  and,  by  the  time  he  had  completed  his  studies, 
he  might  walk  safely  up  and  down  the  land.  Then 
he  remembered  that  he  had  already  changed  his  name 
and  taken  upon  himself  a New  Name,  and  it  was  not 
fitting  that  such  a stigma  should  attach  to  the  new  one. 

“If  thy  brother  have  aught  against  thee—”  Ah, 
he  would  first  seek  out  Padre  Joao  and  confess  his 
fault  and  beg  for  forgiveness,  and,  if  he  gave  it,  well 
enough,  but,  if  not,  his  hands  would  be  clean  of  the 
fault  and  he  might  disappear. 

Then  he  remembered  what  manner  of  man  the 
priest  was,  and  how  he  was  hot  for  vengeance  ; and 
knew  that  he  could  hope  for  no  mercy  there,  nor 
peace  in  his  own  heart  if  he  hid  himself.  No,— there 
was  no  escape  for  him  : he  must  give  himself  up  to 
the  authorities  and  take  the  consequences ; and  then, 
when  he  had  served  his  time,  he  might  think  of  the 
ministry.  Having  made  this  resolve,  he  turned  over 
in  bed  and  slept. 

Jose  Capitao  was  awakened  the  next  morning  to 
find  the  young  man  on  horseback  before  his  door. 

“ Dismount ! Dismount ! ” the  old  man  cried,  “I  am 
right  glad  to  see  thee.  Wilt  thou  stop  with  me  for 
a few  days  ? ” 

“No,  no!  I am  off  for  Jahu.” 

“ Jahu  ? Jahu  ? There  is  no  school  in  Jahu.” 

“ No,  there  is  no  school  there  but  there  is  a— pris- 
on,” said  the  young  man,  gloomily. 

“ How, — a prison  ? ” was  the  puzzled  reply.  “What 
hast  thou  to  do  with  the  prison  in  Jahu  ? But  dis- 


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87 


mount  and  tell  me  about  it ! Here  I am  like  an  old 
chuckle-head,  keeping  thee  in  the  saddle.  Wait, 
while  I speak  for  the  coffee  ! Now,  go  ahead  with 
thy  tale!  I am  ready.” 

So  Horacio  told  his  story  to  the  wondering  old 
man  and  bade  him  farewell. 

“ Well,  well ! The  pain  of  it ! Oh,  the  pain  of  it ! 
Yet  I know  not  but  that  thou  art  right.  I feel  my- 
self small  to  advise.  If  I should  say  ‘go  not’,  it  may 
be  the  will  of  God  for  thee  to  go ; and  if  I should 
say  ‘go’,  it  may  be  His  will  that  thou  shouldst  not 
go.  Let  us  look  to  Him  for  guidance,  and  then,  if 
thou  be  still  of  the  same  mind  and  resolved  upon  go- 
ing, go  ! -—and  the  Lord  go  with  thee  ! ” 

So  they  two  stood  up  at  the  table  where  the  emp- 
tied coffee  cups  were  sitting,  and  Sor  Jose  lifted  up 
his  heart  and  voice  in  prayer,  after  which  Horacio 
threw  himself  into  his  arms,  shook  hands  with  the 
old  man’s  wife,  and,  flinging  himself  upon  Bonito, 
galloped  off. 

Two  days  later  he  rode  into  Jahu,  as  night  was 
falling,  and  put  up  at  a small  hotel  in  the  place. 

As  they  were  getting  ready  a bite  for  him  to  eat, 
he  sat  dejectedly  by  the  table,  staring  at  nothing  and 
thinking  of  the  same.  He  had  come  to  a point  where 
he  could  not  think.  All  the  warmth  of  heart  which 
he  had  felt  when  his  resolve  was  freshly  made,  had 
now  departed.  Almost  it  seemed  that  his  guiding- 
star  had  forsaken  him.  He  lifted  his  eyes  and  glanc- 
ed about  the  dusky  room,  which  was  illumined  by  the 
usual  bit  of  wick  in  a bottle  of  kerosene. 


88 


Horacio 


Opposite  to  him  upon  the  wall  was  a strange-look- 
ing  photograph  in  a dingy  black  frame.  He  could 
not  make  it  out  in  the  obscurity,  but  it  excited  his 
curiosity  so  much  that  at  last  he  arose  and  went  over 
to  examine  it. 

In  the  center  of  the  picture  Father  Joao  was  sit- 
ting up  in  his  bed,  nude  to  the  waist,  and  looking 
wan  and  emaciated.  On  each  side  was  a physician 
supporting  the  injured  man,  while  against  the  white 
skin  of  his  body  Horacio  counted  seven  little  round 
black  spots. 

The  innkeeper  came  in  and  found  him  looking  at 
the  lugubrious  portrait.  With  an  exclamation  of  ec- 
static pride,  he  explained  to  his  guest : 

“ That  is  our  priest,  Father  Joao  ! He  was  ill  many 
months  and  no  one  thought  he  would  live.  A young 
ruffian  shot  him,  after  stealing  a girl  who  was  the 
good  priest’s  ward.  Father  Joao  had  him  arrested 
and  the  lad  shot  him  and  got  away,  but  the  judg- 
ment of  God  fell  upon  his  house,  for  the  bugres  slew 
all  his  family  and  burned  their  house  to  the  ground 
shortly  afterward.” 

“ So  your  priest  is  very  popular  with  you  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes,  he  is  well  liked.  A finer  man  never  liv- 
ed. Some  complain  that  he  is  a bit  spritely  to  be 
wearing  the  cassock,  but,  for  my  part,  I like  him  the 
better  for  it.  Those  that  go  about  with  a face  as 
long  as  a fiddle  are  quite  likely  greater  rogues  for 
all  of  their  pious  looks,  while  Father  Joao  was  the 
life  of  a wedding  or  a christening,  and,  though  his 
prices  were  a bit  stiff,  yet  they  were  no  worse  than 


The  Convict  89 


the  others.  What  he  made  he  spent  here  in  the 
town,  and  all  he  had  hoarded  went  to  pay  the  doc- 
tors while  he  was  ill,  so  we  have  it  all  back  again 
in  one  way  or  another ; for  the  doctors  from  Sao 
Paulo  stopped  at  my  house,  and  thus  what  I paid 
for  christenings  came  back  again  in  due  time,”  and 
he  chuckled  at  his  own  wit. 

Horacio  liked  neither  the  picture  nor  the  subject 
of  the  conversation,  so  he  gladly  turned  in  silence 
to  the  food  which,  by  this  time,  the  talkative  land- 
lord had  placed  upon  the  table. 

On  the  morrow  he  presented  himself  to  the  Juiz 
de  Dereito,  who  was  not  the  same  magistrate  who 
had  accompanied  Father  Joao  on  his  memorable  visit 
to  the  sitio,  years  before.  When  Horacio  had  finish- 
ed explaining  what  had  brought  him  there,  the  worthy 
gentleman  laid  down  his  pen  and  looked  at  him  in 
astonishment. 

“ So  you  are  the  lad  who  shot  Father  Joao,  and 
you  have  come  to  surrender  yourself  ? Que  diabo  ! 
Well,  I never ! What  in  the  name  of  all-possessed 
do  you  want  to  do  that  for  ? ” 

“ I committed  an  offense  against  the  State,  and  I 
want  to  make  it  right.” 

“ Just  so  ! Well,  you  can  make  it  right  with  the 
State  a good  deal  easier  than  with  Father  Joao,  I 

take  it ; for,  if  he  catches  you However,  that  is 

none  of  my  concern,  and  he  is  out  of  town  at  pre- 
sent. Let  me  see ” 

Horacio’s  spirits  rose  somewhat,  both  on  knowing 
that  his  enemy  was  away  and  on  finding  the  magis- 


90 


Horacio 


trate  kindly  disposed. 

“ Let  me  see,”  he  continued,  “ I tell  you  truiy,  I 
would  prefer  not  to  take  cognizance  of  this  affair, 
and  would  turn  you  loose  if  I could.  You  say  you 
have  served  three  years  in  the  army  and  are  a ser- 
geant with  an  honorable  discharge — yet  that  counts 
for  nothing  at  law.  Fortunately  for  you,  the  jury  is 

sitting  now.  Let  me  see ” — turning  to  his  clerk  or 

secretary— “ Put  this  case  on  the  docket  for  to-day, 
and  we  will  get  it  out  of  the  way  at  once.  It  may 
be  better  for  all  of  us.  No  ? ” and  he  glanced  shrewd- 
ly at  Horacio.  “ Let  me  see......  Shall  we  find  you 

an  attorney  ? ” 

“ I think  not,  sir.  There  is  but  little  to  be  said, 
and  I can  say  it  very  easily  for  myself,  but  I thank 
you  very  much  for  your  kindness.” 

“ Not  at  all.  Not  at  all.  Sit  down  over  there  while 
my  secretary  makes  out  the  papers,  and  I shall  give 
you  into  custody  at  once.” 

“Your  Worship!  may  I ask  that  my  horse  be  de- 
livered to  Francisco  da  Gama  dos  Santos,  in  case  I 
am  condemned  ? He  knows  me  and  will  care  for  the 
animal.” 

“Yes,  to  be  sure!  To  be  sure!  But,  perhaps,  it 
will  not  be  necessary.  Who  can  tell  ? ” said  the  kind- 
ly magistrate,  as  he  bundled  together  a bunch  of  doc- 
uments and  indicated  the  young  man  with  a wave  of 
his  hand  to  the  soldier  who  came  at  his  call. 

A gleam  of  hope  came  to  Horacio,  and  he  followed 
the  man  with  a lighter  heart.  The  soldier  evidently 
knew  from  the  judge’s  manner  that  no  forcible  res- 


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91 


traint  or  rough  treatment  was  necessary,  and,  present- 
ly, he  ushered  him  into  a cell  occupied  by  a half  a 
dozen  rough-looking  men. 

The  place  was  clean  enough,  and  cots  stood  in  an 
orderly  fashion  against  the  wall  on  either  side.  A sol- 
dier sat  at  the  grated  door,  and  the  iron  bars  of  the 
window  were  fixed  in  an  iron  frame  which  was  let 
into  the  masonry.  The  floor  was  of  cement  and  was 
evidently  laid  upon  stone.  The  men  greeted  Horacio 
as  a companion  in  iniquity  and  the  young  man  had 
been  too  long  a soldier  not  to  know  how  to  respond 
in  a friendly  fashion,  and  yet  have  them  keep  their 
distance. 

When  he  had  frankly  told  them  the  nature  of  his 
offense,  he  evidently  became  a hero  in  their  eyes, 
for,  looking  down  upon  them  from  the  wall  by  the 
door  was  a copy  of  the  selfsame  portrait  of  the  padre 
with  seven  holes  in  him ; but,  when  they  learned  that 
he  had  come  back  voluntarily,  after  nearly  four  years, 
to  surrender  himself,  they  set  him  down  for  a fool, 
and  their  respect  for  him  was  materially  lessened. 

About  eleven  o’clock,  the  same  soldier  who  had 
brought  him  there,  came  to  conduct  him  to  his  trial, 
and  in  a few  moments  he  found  himself  in  the  court- 
room, where  the  Jury  was  assembled.  The  case  was 
soon  called,  and  the  clerk  read  the  accusation,  upon 
which,  all  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  prisoner  with 
unusual  interest.  As  there  were  no  witnesses  either 
for  or  against  the  accused,  he  was  permitted  to  tell 
his  own  story,  which  he  did  in  a frank  and  manly 
fashion,  evidently  strongly  impressing  both  Judge  and 


92 


Horacio 


Jury  in  his  favor,  when,  suddenly,  as  he  concluded, 
there  was  a stir  in  the  court-room  and  Father  Joao 
walked  in. 

No  one  had  noticed  a man  slip  out  of  the  court- 
room while  the  accusation  was  being  read,  nor  did 
anyone  know  that  Father  Joao  had  unexpectedly  re- 
turned the  night  before.  The  Judge  flushed  slightly, 
but  made  as  though  he  had  not  noticed  the  interrup- 
tion caused  by  the  turning  of  every  head  in  the  room 
toward  the  door. 

“ Gentlemen  ! you  have  heard  the  evidence. ” he 

began,  when  Father  Joao  broke  out, —“Your  Wor- 
ship ! I request  the  privilege  of  being  heard.” 

“Ah,  Father  Joao!  Is  it  your  Reverence?”  said 
the  Judge,  with  affected  innocence,  looking  up  at  the 
priest.  “ Well,  you  have  the  privilege  of  speaking, 
but  I would  suggest  that  you  secure  an  attorney  to 
represent  you.” 

“Yes, — just  so!— -and,  meanwhile,  your  Worship 
will  shuffle  this  young  miscreant  through  the  Jury 
and  out  the  back-door  to  pay  me  off  for  that  election 
business ! ” 

An  appreciative  grin  became  visible  on  the  faces 
of  the  audience,  and  the  Judge  seemed  to  recognize 
that  he  was  on  boggy  ground,  but  the  dignity  of  his 
office  demanded  that  he  protest. 

“ Have  a care,  your  Reverence ! You  forget  your- 
self. I cannot  listen  to  such  language.  Sergeant ! 
kindly  conduct  his  Reverence  to  the  door.” 

“ I ask  your  pardon  for  my — frankness,  your  Wor- 
ship. Officer,  I will  not  trouble  you  ! Gentlemen  of 


The  Convict 


93 


the  Jury,  — I ask  the  full  penalty  of  the  law  for  this 
young  man ! He  is  self-confessedly  guilty  and  must 
pay  the  penalty.  Gentlemen, — remember  your  duty 
to  the  State  and  to  your  injured — I may  say — your 
martyred  shepherd  : one  who,  in  defence  of  the  vir- 
tue and  innocence ” 

“ Your  Reverence  ! ” shouted  the  Judge,  recover- 
ing himself,  “ this  is  very  irregular.  Gentlemen,  the 
case  is  closed.  You  may  retire  ! ” 

The  priest  fixed  a meaning  and  menacing  glance 
upon  certain  ones  in  the  jury-box  and  sat  down  in 
the  nearest  chair,  whereupon  the  Jury  arose  and  left 
the  room.  Horacio  now  felt  assured  that  he  was  not 
to  get  off  as  lightly  as  he  had  begun  to  hope,  and 
he  nerved  himself  for  a most  unfavorable  verdict. 
In  a few  moments  the  Jury  filed  into  the  box  and 
their  verdict  was  read  aloud  : 

“ Guilty  of  assault  with  intent  to  kill,  with  extenu- 
ating circumstances,  and  a recommendation  to  mercy.” 

The  Judge  immediately  arose  and  sentenced  the  pris- 
oner to  two  years  in  the  jail  at  Jahu,  which  was  the 
lightest  sentence  he  dared  give,  in  face  of  the  ver- 
dict. The  soldier  led  Horacio  away  again  and  lock- 
ed him  in  the  cell,  after  promising  to  bring  his  bun- 
dle from  the  hotel,  and  leave  his  horse  with  the  man 
who  had  so  often  purchased  the  hides  and  skins  which 
he  had  brought  to  Jahu  in  the  old  days. 

How  different  now  were  his  prospects  from  those 
which  had  opened  themselves  out  before  him,  when, 
in  the  first  flush  of  his  new-born  enthusiasm,  he  had 
resolved  to  give  his  young  life  and  strength  to  the 


94 


Horacio 


spread  of  the  Gospel  among  his  own  people ! What 
had  God  in  store  for  him  here  in  this  prison,  when 
he  had  thought  to  please  Him  by  giving  himself  to 
be  a minister  of  the  Gospel  ? 

He  glanced  about  him  at  the  thick  walls  and  iron- 
ed windows.  Could  such  as  these  hold  him  back 
from  freedom?  Yet,  that  very  morning,  he  had  still 
been  free  to  go  on  his  way  or  on  the  way  of  duty, 
and  he  had  freely  chosen.  Now,  the  rough  and 
straightened  way  was  his  path  ! 

The  soldier  came  to  the  door  and  handed  to  him, 
through  the  little  wicket,  such  things  as  he  might 
have  from  his  bundle — among  them,  a book.  The 
sight  of  the  Book  brought  to  his  mind  a dim  memory 
of  something  that  he  had  read.  Where  was  it?  It 
was  well  at  the  beginning  of  the  Book — of  that  he 
was  sure — Adam  ? Noah  ? Abraham  ? Jacob  ? — no,  it 
was  none  of  these.  Ah,— -he  has  it  now  ! “ And  Jo- 
seph’s master  took  him,  and  put  him  into  the  prison, 
a place  where  the  king’s  prisoners  were  bound,  but 
the  Lord  was  with  Joseph.” 

Yes,  but  Joseph  was  unjustly  accused,  and  he — 
justly.  Never  mind, — he  would  appropriate  the  com- 
fort that  came  to  him,  and  so  he  read  on  and,  when 
he  had  read  it  to  himself,  he  told  his  companions  of 
Joseph  and  his  story,  and,  though  they  were  inter- 
ested in  the  tale,  still  they  did  not  care  for  the  moral 
of  it. 

The  days  went  slowly  by  and  Horacio  whiled  away 
the  time  by  reading  in  the  Book,  and  often  he  told 
his  companions  of  the  Gospel  message  and  wonder- 


The  Convict 


95 


ed  why  they  did  not  receive  it  as  he  had  received 
it;  but  they  only  made  light  of  it,  although  they  were 
glad  enough  to  help  pass  the  time  by  hearing  the 
stories  that  were  in  the  Book.  Yet  their  manners 
did  not  change  nor  their  own  stories  become  less  vile. 

At  last,  one  night,  as  he  lay  upon  his  cot,  he  was 
awakened  by  some  slight  noise  that  he  heard  and, 
sitting  up  in  .bed,  became  immediately  aware  that  his 
companions  were  hard  at  work  upon  the  bars  of  the 
window,  cutting,  cutting,  cutting,  slowly  but  surely, 
with  some  instrument  they  had  made  or  procured  in 
some  way. 

Suddenly  the  noise  stopped  : the  workmen  had  seen 
the  young  man  sitting  up  and  watching  them.  Before 
he  knew  what  was  happening,  he  felt  a blanket  go 
over  his  head  and  his  wrists  were  drawn  down  to 
the  cot  on  either  side.  Half  smothered,  he  struggled 
for  a time  and  then  lay  still.  Immediately  his  captors 
threw  off  the  blanket,  thinking  that  he  had  become 
unconscious.  Finding  that  he  was  lying  there  with 
both  eyes  wide  open,  one  of  them  thrust  the  end  of 
a sheet  into  his  mouth  and  crammed  it  tightly  into 
place. 

“ Wilt  thou  join  us  and  make  thine  escape,  Senhor 
Protestante  ? ” asked  the  leader. 

Horacio  shook  his  head. 

“Thou  wilt  betray  us,  then  ? ” 

Their  captive  reflected  for  a moment  and  again 
shook  his  head.  The  men  looked  from  one  to  anoth- 
er incredulously. 

“ A likely  story  ! ” muttered  the  leader.  “ Better 


96 


Horacio 


truss  him  and  gag  him ! ” 

With  that  they  tied  him  hand  and  foot  to  his  cot 
with  strips  cut  from  a blanket  and,  gagging  him  care- 
fully, returned  to  their  work.  In  an  hour  or  so  the 
bars  gave  way  and  they  all  slipped  through  the  ap- 
erture and  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

Horacio  looked  longingly  at  the  open  window  and 
then  commenced  to  turn  and  wriggle  on  his  cot.  Fi- 
nally he  succeeded  in  drawing  a hand  loose  from  his 
bonds,  pulled  the  bandage  from  his  face  and  with- 
drew the  piece  of  sheet  which  had  been  stuffed  into 
his  mouth.  In  another  moment  he  had  his  other 
wrist  loose  and,  sitting  up,  unbound  his  ankles. 

Gathering  together  his  clothes  and  small  possess- 
ions, he  made  them  into  a bundle  and,  vaulting  light- 
ly to  the  sill,  dropped  to  the  ground  outside,  and 
made  off  down  the  street. 

Ah,  sweet  air  of  freedom ! What  a fool  he  had 
been  to  let  them  shut  him  up  in  that  dreadful  place ! 
He  would  shake  the  dust  of  that  ill-omened  town 
from  his  feet  and  choose  another  way.  Suddenly, 
he  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  He  was 
not  yet  out  of  the  town,  but  the  streets  were  empty 
of  all  save  the  watch,  who  were  dozing  on  distant 
corners,  and  easily  avoided  because  of  their  conspic- 
uous white  breeches. 

There  came  a voice,  speaking  inside  : “ But  Jonah 
rose  up  to  flee  unto  Tarshish,  from  the  presence  of 
the  Lord,  and  went  down  to  Joppa,”  and  the  voice 
seemed  to  say  again : “ But  Horacio  rose  up  to  flee 
from  Jahu,  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord.” 


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97 


Turning  upon  his  heels,  he  retraced  his  steps  and 
came  again  to  the  jail.  All  was  quiet  within  and  it 
was  evident  that  the  escape  of  the  prisoners'had  not 
yet  been  discovered,  but  the  window  was  high  above 
his  head  and  he  could  not  reach  up  to  it. 

“ Now,”  thought  he,  “ I must  needs  remain  with- 
out, as  I have  no  way  of  returning.  I should  look 
like  a pretty  fool  to  be  found  sitting  here  at  the  door 
in  the  morning.” 

Then  he  remembered  that  there  was  a pile  of  poles 
upon  the  roadside  a bit  back ; so  he  returned  and 
fetched  one  of  the  poles  ; set  it  against  the  jail,  be- 
side the  window,  and  up  this  he  climbed  as  he  had 
once  before  climbed  the  cipo  to  be  delivered  from 
the  queixadas.  Then,  having  reached  the  sill  again, 
he  dropped  upon  the  floor  inside  and  lay  down  upon 
his  couch  to  sleep  until  morning,  when  he  was  awak- 
ened by  the  hue  and  cry  that  was  made  over  the  es- 
cape of  the  prisoners. 

As  this  was  a somewhat  common  occurrence,  no 
one  greatly  wondered,  whereas  all  were  exceedingly 
amazed  that  Horacio  had  not  taken  himself  off,  also. 
As  for  the  young  man,  he  had  other  things  to  think 
upon,  for  he  presently  discovered,  upon  getting  him- 
self in  order,  that  the  six  hundred  milreis  that  he  had 
kept  concealed  in  his  clothing,  had  gone  with  the  es- 
caping prisoners. 

Alas, — this  was  too  much  ! How  could  God  call 
him  and  then  take  away  his  liberty  and  his  means  ? 
But  to  his  mind  there  came  these  words  : “ Commit 
thy  way  unto  the  Lord : trust  also  in  Him,  and  He 


98 


Horacio 


shall  bring  it  to  pass.” 

The  blacksmith  came  and  repaired  the  window  and 
the  cell  soon  filled  with  other  prisoners.  The  days 
went  by  and  Horacio  daily  presented  the  Gospel  mes- 
sage to  his  companions,  without  encouragement,  but 
nevertheless  he  spoke  as  he  was  able,  and  studied 
the  Word. 

Three  months  had  now  passed  away  when,  one 
day,  the  smiling  face  of  Sor  Jose  appeared  at  the 
little  wicket  in  the  door,  only  to  vanish  again  ere 
Horacio  could  spring  to  his  feet.  The  door  opened, 
and  a soldier  bade  the  young  man  get  his  things  to- 
gether and  come  outside.  Hastily  snatching  up  his 
belongings,  and  bidding  farewell  to  his  companions, 
Horacio  left  the  cell  where  he  had  passed  so  many 
bitter  hours,  stepped  out  into  the  corridor,  and  was 
received  in  the  warm  embrace  of  his  old  friend. 

“ Ah,  my  son ! God  has  been  merciful.  I knew  it 
would  come  ! I knew  it  would  come  ! ” 

“ What  has  come,  Sor  Jose  ? ” asked  the  bewilder- 
ed youth,  looking  at  him  enquiringly,  as  the  old  man 
still  held  him  by  the  hand  and  beamed  on  him  with 
his  kind  old  eyes. 

“Prepare  to  take  leave  of  thy  home  and  friends, 
lad,”  he  said,  with  a droll  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and 
rolling  the  words  in  his  own  peculiar  fashion  over 
his  nearly  toothless  gums.  “ Prepare  to  tear  thyself 
away  ! I grieve  to  cause  thee  this  pain,” — chuckling 
at  the  thought — “ but,  in  a word,  the  President  of 
the  State  hath  sent  thee  this  bit  of  paper,  by  virtue 
of  which  thou  mayest  leave  the  place.” 


The  Convict 


99 


“ How  is  that  ? ” asked  the  amazed  young  fellow. 
“ What  does  Campos  Salles  know  of  me  ? ” 

“ I warrant  he  knows  nothing,  but  here  is  his  name 
on  this  paper,  and  that  suffices,”  and  he  thrust  into 
his  hand  a pardon  on  which  was  inscribed,  “ In  con- 
sideration of  meritorious  services  to  the  State.”  The 
old  man  laughed  to  see  joy  succeed  astonishment. 

“ Tell  me  how  it  was,”  Horacio  demanded,  at  length. 
“ Nothing  more  simple,”  replied  his  friend.  “ Thy 
colonel  interested  himself  in  thy  case,  when  he  had 
heard  the  whole  story,  and  laid  it  before  the  Presi- 
dent, with  this  result.” 

“Then  my  colonel  has  already  returned  to  his  fa- 
zenda at  Sao  Manoel  ? ” 

“Nay,  he  has  not  returned.” 

“ Then  how  knew  he  of  my  troubles  ? ” 

The  old  man  showed  some  confusion  at  this  ques- 
tion, and  Horacio,  noticing  it,  felt  a shadow  of  a sus- 
picion flash  across  his  mind. 

“ Didst  thou  seek  my  colonel  in  Sao  Paulo  ? ” 

“ Why  not  ? ” replied  the  old  man,  uneasily,  but 
with  ill-feigned  indifference.  “ I had  been  wanting 
for  a long  time  to  run  down  to  the  City  to  see  my 
folks  there.” 

Horacio  thought  of  the  railroad  fare  and  the  old 
man’s  extreme  poverty.  What  sacrifices  had  he  not 
been  obliged  to  make  to  enable  him  to  make  this 
journey  ? He  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  im- 
mediately remembered  his  own  condition. 

“ Knowest  thou,  old  friend  and  benefactor,”  he  said, 
anxiously,  “ that  they  have  robbed  me  of  my  six  hun- 


100 


Horacio 


dred  milreis  ? I am  clean — clean  ! ” and  he  pulled  a 
pocket  wrong-side-out  to  make  his  statement  more 
realistic. 

Sor  Jose  shook  his  head  slowly  and  sadly  from 
side  to  side,  then  finally  said,  “ Come  ! Bring  thy 
bundle.  Knowest  thou  not  that  there  is  a little  band 
of  believers  in  Jahu  ? No  ? ” 

“ I did  not  mingle  with  such  as  they  when  I was 
here  before,”  replied  Horacio,  half  laughing,  “and  did 
not  even  know  there  were  such  people.” 

“ Let  us  take  thy  case  to  the  Rev.  Ribeiro  and  ask 
counsel.” 

Gathering  his  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  bidding 
farewell  to  the  kindly  guards  at  the  jail,  Horacio  ac- 
companied the  old  man,  to  seek  the  house  of  the 
minister. 

The  little  man  stood  in  the  doorway  as  he  receiv- 
ed them,  and  rubbed  his  hands  and  smiled  and  smil- 
ed. He  had  already  heard  Horatio's  story  and  wel- 
comed him  right  cordially. 

“ Come  in  ! Come  in  ! ” he  called  out,  cheerfully, 
and  rubbed  his  hands  and  smiled.  Horacio  felt  like 
smiling,  too,  in  spite  of  the  loss  of  his  money;  and 
soon  found  himself  wondering  if  sorrow  could  ever 
chase  the  smile  from  the  little  man’s  face  and  bring 
tears  instead. 

“ Please  to  sit  down  while  I ask  for  the  coffee ! 
I am  very  glad  to  see  you.  This  is  my  wife.  Helena, 
this  is  our  young  friend  who  was  in  trouble  about 
the  priest.  Helena,  dear,  wilt  thou  have  the  good- 
ness to  bring  the  coffee?” 


The  Convict 


101 


The  minister’s  wife  stepped  from  the  room  to  do 
his  bidding,  and  the  little  man  sat  down,  rubbing  his 
hands  and  smiling. 

“ Dear,  dear ! Let  us  see  ! It  will  be  well  for  you 
to  leave  Jahu  to-day.  It  is  hardly  safe  to  risk  the 
priest’s  forgetting  his  little  grudge,  and  he  has  many 
friends.  Yes,  yes  ! It  is  wise  to  go  by  the  Mixto 
and  get  to  Sao  Paulo  to-morrow,  and  then  we  shall 
see  what  can  be  done.  Sor  Jose  says  you  have  mon- 
ey for  your  immediate  needs  ? ” and  the  little  man 
rubbed  his  hands  and  smiled  enquiringly  at  Horacio. 

A shade  crossed  the  young  man’s  face.  “ The 
prisoners  that  escaped  three  months  ago  robbed  me 
of  it  all.  I am  clean — clean ! ” and  he  smiled  lugu- 
briously. 

The  little  man  answered  his  smile  with  another 
which  held  a shade  of  gravity,  and  he  rubbed  his 
hands  in  perplexity  as  he  murmured,  “ That  is  very 
bad.  Very  bad.  So  you  have  nothing  ? As  for  me, 
I had  thought  to  strain  a point  for  my  own  ticket 
and  go  with  you,  but  the  price  of  two  is  beyond  me, 
I fear.  As  for  Jose  Capitao,  I fancy  he  is  as  your- 
self.” The  old  man  nodded  sadly  in  confirmation. 

“ There  is  my  horse ! ” exclaimed  Horacio,  sudden- 
ly, as  a memory  of  his  old  friend  shot  through  his 
mind.  “ But,  then,  I cannot  sell  him.  He  is  like  a 
human  being — old  friend  and  comrade  to  me — and  all 
that  I have  of  home  now,”  and  a mist  gathered  be- 
fore his  eyes  at  the  thought. 

“ No,  no ! ” said  the  little  man,  rubbing  his  hands 
and  smiling,  “ we  must  look  about  us.  Let  me  see  ! 


102 


Horacio 


There  is  Senhor  Baldomero,  but  his  piety  extends  only 
as  far  as  his  purse  strings,  I fear.  He  is  well  fixed 
and  has  half  a dozen  houses  which  he  lets ; but  then, 
he  gives  less  than  Donna  Margarida,  the  dressmaker, 
although  she  has  nothing.  It  would  not  do  to  ask 
him,  for  we  should  have  our  trouble  for  our  pains. 
Our  little  church  is  poor.  Alas,  they  have  not  yet 
learned  to  give  ! When  they  leave  Rome,  they  think 
to  themselves,  ‘ There  now,  we  are  quit  of  the  fees 
and  the  taxes  and  all  the  other  impositions  of  the 
rascally  priests ! ’ They  have  not  yet  learned  to  ex- 
press love  by  giving.  Perhaps  we  are  slow  to  ask 
them,  also,  for  we  fear  to  alienate  them  by  going  to 
them  for  money,  when  they  should  be  the  ones  to 
come  to  us  to  offer,  voluntarily,  according  as  the  Lord 
has  blessed  them. 

“ Then  there  is  Senhor  Joaquim— but  his  daughter 
lies  ill  this  long  time  and  he  is  not  able,  truly,  though 
his  will  is  good.  Of  the  others,  I know  none  save 
Senhor  Thiago,  and,  as  he  has  but  recently  joined 
us,  I fear  to  ask  him.” 

Horacio  got  up  and  reached  for  his  hat. 

“ Wait ! Wait ! ” cried  the  minister,  hopefully,  “the 
coffee  is  at  the  door.  We  shall  find  a way  out  of 
the  difficulty,  somehow.” 

The  young  man  reached  for  the  coffee  and  gulped 
it  as  he  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  hand.  “ Wait  for 
me  here,”  he  said,  “ I shall  be  back  in  a little  mo- 
ment,” and  vanished  through  the  door. 

Making  his  way  down  the  street,  he  came  at  last 
to  his  old  associate’s  place  of  business — the  store  of 


The  Convict 


103 


the  dealer  who  had  received  his  skins,  and  who  was 
now  keeping  his  horse  for  him.  Pushing  his  way 
through  the  group  at  the  counter,  he  plucked  Sor 
Francisco  by  the  sleeve  and  drew  him  aside  into  his 
little  office. 

“ What  wilt  thou  give  me,  with  Bonito  as  surety, 
for  the  sake  of  old  times  ? If  I redeem  him  not  in 
two  years,  he  is  thine,  and  thou  hast  the  use  of  him 
meanwhile  in  exchange  for  the  use  of  thy  money, 
which  I need  to  get  out  of  town.” 

Senhor  Francisco  looked  hard  at  Horacio,  for  he 
did  not  recognize  him  at  first : then  he  said  : “ Why 
didst  thou  not  hide  until  dark  and  then  we  might 
talk  at  leisure?  Now,  thou  wilt  have  the  police  at 
thy  heels  ere  thou  canst  get  away.  The  town  is  for 
Father  Joao.” 

“ What  care  I for  the  town  ? I have  a pardon 
from  the  President ! There  is  naught  to  fear  by  day. 
But  I must  get  away,  as  thou  knowest.  Canst  thou 
help  me  ? I was  stripped  of  what  I had  by  those 
whom  the  jail  window  pardoned  three  months  ago.” 

The  trader  pursed  his  lips  and  thought  awhile.  Fi- 
nally, his  features  relaxed  and  he  drew  a roll  of  bills 
from  his  pocket.  Laying  three  notes  of  fifty  milreis 
upon  the  counter,  he  asked  : “ Is  it  a bargain  ? ” 

“ I had  thought  to  have  more.  The  animal  is  none 
of  the  common.” 

“ Yes,  but  old.  Is  it  not  so  ? Thou  hast  had  him 
for  six  years  and  he  was  more  than  a colt  then.” 

Horacio  gathered  up  the  mdney.  “ Say  that  I may 
redeem  him  at  any  time,  and  it  is  a bargain.” 


104 


Horacio 


“ Well,  well ! For  old  time’s  sake,  let  it  go  at  that. 
Good  luck  to  thee  ! ” and  the  two  gripped  hands  up- 
on the  compact.  A moment  more  and  Horacio  was 
hurrying  back  to  his  friends. 

Entering  the  house,  he  waved  the  notes  before 
their  wondering  eyes,  and  bade  them  pack  their  va- 
lises. The  little  man  smiled  and  rubbed  his  hands 
with  satisfaction,  but  Jose  Capitao  shook  his  head 
and  smiled  the  half-sad  smile  of  disillusion,  which 
comes  with  age. 

“ Thou  wilt  need  more  than  that,”  he  said,  “to  make 
a preacher.  It  is  but  one  grain  in  the  bin.” 

“ Not  so,  Sor  Jose,”  replied  Horacio,  cheerfully,  “ I 
shall  repay  thee  what  thou  hast  spent  on  my  case  al- 
ready, and  thou  shalt  ride  with  us  to  Brotas.  Dost 
thou  think  to  walk  those  twenty  leagues  on  thine  old 
legs,  while  my  young  ones  ride  ? ” 

“ Tut,  boy  ! Though  thou  hast  been  a soldier,  four 
legs  carried  thy  two,  but  the  old  man  has  run  up  a 
distance-record  which  thou  canst  never  equal.  I shall 
take  it  easy  and  there  are  friends  along  the  way  who 
will  be  glad  enough  to  entertain  me.  Besides  that, 
I have  books  to  sell ! See  here — the  minister  has  ar- 
ranged this  full  sack  for  me  and  if  will  be  quite  a 
business  for  me  on  the  way,  also  there  are  words  to 
speak  in  the  Master’s  name.  Fear  not  for  me,  but 
get  thyself  ready  for  to-night’s  train.” 

The  little  man  smiled  and  nodded.  “ Let  him  be, 
Horacio  ! ” he  said,  rubbing  his  hands  briskly.  “ Let 
him  be  ! Keep  your  money  for  books  and  clothing : 
you  will  need  it  all  and  more  beside.  As  for  me,  I 


The  Convict 


105 


am  bound  for  Presbytery  and  have  my  ticket-money 
laid  by,  so  it  costs  me  nothing  to  take  your  matters 
in  hand  as  well. 

“ But  here  is  Helena,  come  to  say  that  breakfast  is 
served.  Have  the  goodness  to  pass  to  the  other 
room  and  share  our  humble  fare.  Vamos  todos!” 
and  the  little  man  smiled  them  out  to  the  hospitable, 
but  frugal,  midday  meal. 


6 

THE  STUDENT. 


HAT  afternoon  they  quietly  slip- 
ped out  of  the  town  on  the  mixed 
train,  leaving  the  old  man  with  smi- 
ling, tear-stained  face  looking  after 
them,  with  his  kind  old  trembling 
hands  crossed  upon  the  knob  of 
his  old  cane,  ere  he  shuffled  with 
his  old  feet  along  the  platform  and  down  the  street, 
to  fetch  his  pack  and  set  off  on  his  weary  journey 
to  his  distant  home. 

As  for  his  companions,  the  next  day  saw  them  dis- 
embarking from  the  train  in  the  great  Capital  and 
making  their  way  to  the  hospitable  home  of  the  Rev- 
erend Manoel  Camargo,  where  a room  was  ready  for 
Senhor  Ribeiro.  A hurried  word  of  explanation  en- 
sued and  Horacio  was  cordially  welcomed  and  invited 
to  share  it  with  him. 

Welcomed,  indeed,  he  was  before  the  words  of  ex- 


The  Student 


107 


planation  and  introduction,  for  such  is  the  hospitable 
custom  in  Brazil,  which  has  its  inconveniences  occas- 
ionally, as  well  as  its  conveniences,  for,  oftentimes, 
one  may  live  in  a family  for  a fortnight  without  be- 
ing able  to  learn  the  names  and  relations  of  those 
who  form  the  home  circle. 

That  very  day  the  two  ministers  and  their  charge 
went  to  call  upon  Dr.  Street,  the  superintendent  of 
the  American  Schools.  They  could  hear  the  old  man 
scolding  about  something  which  did  not  please  him, 
as  they  entered. 

“ Unpropitious  moment,  Vicente  ? ” whispered  the 
Rev.  Manoel,  nudging  his  companion  and  looking  at 
him  enquiringly.  Ere  the  other  could  answer  with 
aught  else  than  a smile  and  a gentle  friction  of  the 
hands,  the  old  man  hurried  them  into  his  presence 
with  a sharp  query. 

Looking  up  from  a heap  of  disordered  papers,  Dr. 
Street  frowned  welcomingly  at  his  visitors,  and  then 
half  rose  and  extended  a grudging  hand.  Horacio’s 
hopes  began  to  wane ; nevertheless,  he  imitated  his 
companions  in  accepting  a chair  in  the  crowded  little 
office  and  the  Rev.  Manoel  broke  the  silence  with  a 
nervous  little  “Well,  Doctor,  — we’ve  brought  you  a 
new  pupil  for  the  superior  course,— -the  upper  school.” 

The  Doctor  frowned  again,  this  time  unmistakeably  : 
“More  of  your  theological  candidates  with  big  bank 
accounts,  I suppose,”  he  answered,  and  finished  with 
a grim  smile. 

The  smile,  such  as  it  was,  was  some  encourage- 
ment, and  the  little  man  smiled  and  rubbed  his  hands 


108 


Horacio 


in  response,  while  the  Rev.  Manoel  went  on  : 

“ It  is  too  true  that  our  boys  are  not  rich,  as  a 
rule.  I don’t  know  why  it  is  that  rich  boys  don’t 
want  to  preach  the  Gospel,  although,  now  that  I stop 
to  think  of  it,  I suppose  it  is  that  old  question  of  the 
needle’s  eye,  in  another  form.” 

“ I suspect  it  is  the  same  the  world  over,”  suggest- 
ed the  Doctor,  cynically.  “ When  you  can’t  make  a 
living  in  any  other  way,  you  can  go  to  preaching  as 
a last  resort.” 

All  this  was  striking  Horacio  as  something  of  a 
revelation.  He  had  given  his  all,  when  he  was  do- 
ing well  in  a small  way,  in  order  that  he  might  be 
free  to  preach  the  Gospel. 

“Well,  what  does  this  young  man  know?”  went 
on  the  Doctor.  “ What  preparation  has  he  ? How 
much  can  he  pay  each  month  ? Who  responds  for 
his  character  ? ” 

“We  can  easily  respond  for  his  character,  Doctor,” 
replied  the  Reverend  Manoel.  “As  to  what  he  knows, 
he  is  here  and  you  can  ask  him.  He  is,  I think,  un- 
able to  pay  anything,  excepting  to  purchase  the  nec- 
essary outfit  of  clothes  and  books,  but  I am  expect- 
ing that  the  Presbytery  will  make  some  arrangement 
to  assist  him  to  necessary  clothing  and  books  for  the 
rest  of  the  time,  when  they  have  heard  his  peculiar 
story.” 

The  Doctor  pressed  the  top  of  his  bald  head  with 
the  palm  of  his  hand,  all  the  fingers  spread  out,  and 
snorted,  “ This  is  no  charity  school ! We’ve  got  to 
have  money  or  bust,  I tell  you  ! Here  I am,  rushed 


The  Student 


109 


to  death  and  breaking  down  with  overwork,  and  on 
top  of  that  I must  be  sticking  my  own  money  into 
this  thing  year  after  year,  with  no  returns.  Never 
expect  to  see  it  again,”  he  added,  abruptly. 

Then  he  gathered  breath  and  went  on:  “You  see 
these  papers  on  my  desk  ? I haven’t  got  out  my 
quarterly  report  yet,  although  it  ought  to  have  gone 
six  weeks  ago.  I can’t  take  a moment  to  talk  with 
you  now  about  any  new  pupils  unless  there  is  money 
in  it.  Money  is  what  we  want ! The  Board  don’t 
even  send  me  the  money  they  have  collected  in  New 
York.  There  is  that  new  building  I had  to  put  up 
this  year  and  borrow  money  on  my  own  name  to  do 
it.  I told  you  the  other  day,  Manoel,  that  this  thing 
must  stop.  I can’t  receive  another  boy  h What  is  it 
you  want  for  him,  anyhow?  Board  and  lodging, 
books  and  clothes,  tuition  and  cash  advanced  for  den- 
tist’s bills  and  cigarettes  ? Only  this  and  nothing 
more,  eh  ? ” 

Horacio  drew  back  his  lips  and  showed  his  gleam- 
ing teeth  for  the  Doctor  to  see — sound  as  when  they 
were  first  set  in  his  firm  jaws — and  spoke  out  rath- 
er sharply  : “ I don’t  smoke  ! ” 

“ Humph  ! ” grunted  the  Doctor.  “ So  they  all  pre- 
tend.” Then  he  turned  again  to  the  minister,  while 
he  rubbed  his  palm  with  renewed  vigor  on  his  bald 
pate. 

“ Do  you  think  I am  made  of  money  ? How  do 
you  suppose  this  school  runs  ? Stuff  a boy  in  one 
end,  turn  a crank,  pull  him  out  of  the  other,  eh  ? 
All  it  costs  is  the  crank  ! ” Then  he  spread  his  hands 


no 


Horacio 


out,  Israelitish  fashion,  palms  up. 

“ I have  no  money,  and  I can’t  get  any  money ! 
Why,  there’ll  be  a deficit  of  seventeen  contos  this 
semester,  with  all  I can  do.  Where  am  I to  get  it  ? 
Where  am  I to  get  it,  can  you  tell  me  ? No ! You 
can  tell  me  how  to  spend  it,  but  no  one  seems  to 
bother  about  the  other  side.  How  many  charity  pu- 
pils do  you  suppose  I have  here  now?  You’d  be 
astonished  to  hear.  You  would  be  astonished,  I say, 
to  hear ! ” 

The  ministers  could  answer  nothing  to  this  argu- 
ment and  reluctantly  rose  to  go.  Horacio’s  heart  was 
submerged  in  a sea  of  hopelessness.  His  compan- 
ions began  their  compliments  for  departure. 

“ How  are  you  getting  on  at  Jahu,  Vicente  ? ” the 
Doctor  enquired.  “ How  is  that  old  skinflint,  Baldo- 
mero  — old  rascal ! ? I remember  how....”  and  here 
the  Doctor  launched  himself  into  the  relation  of  a 
long  and  spicy  story  which  ended  up  with  a tremen- 
dous laugh.  His  guests  remained  standing.  The 
Doctor  went  on  with  his  reminiscences  until  an  hour 
had  passed  away  and  his  guests  had  dropped  back 
into  their  chairs,  fascinated  with  the  wonderful  flow 
of  anecdote,  and  totally  unable  to  move  to  take  their 
departure.  Presently  the  old  man  directed  himself 
amiably  to  Horacio  and  drew  from  him  an  outline  of 
what  he  had  learned  in  the  army  school. 

“You  will  have  to  work  hard  and  be  tutored  a little 
in  order  to  keep  up  with  your  classes  here,”  he  said, 
at  length,  and  Horacio’s  heart  bounded.  “ The  class- 
es commence  day  after  to-morrow.  Take  this  card 


The  Student 


111 


and  Sor  Camargo  will  take  you  over  to  the  dormi- 
torio  and  introduce  you  to  the  house-master,  who 
will  assign  you  a place.  Manoel,  I depend  upon  you 
to  see  that  Presbytery  does  all  that  is  possible  for 
him,  for  my  burdens  are  very  heavy.  I don’t  know 
how  long  I can  keep  him,  but  we  shall  see.” 

The  three  petitioners  saluted  the  Doctor  and  took 
their  departure.  “ This  way,  Horacio,”  said  the  Rev- 
erend Camargo,  turning  abruptly  to  the  left,  and  lead- 
ing the  way  along  a path  which  ran  down  between 
chicken-houses  and  garden,  between  sweet  potatoes 
and  strawberries,  across  a bit  of  meadow  where  two 
Jerseys  and  a donkey  were  grazing,  and  through  a 
gate  along  the  foot-ball  ground,  to  the  college  build- 
ings. 

Mackenzie  College,  a massive,  ugly,  rectangular  ed- 
ifice, of  dirty-pinkish  pressed  brick,  stood  on  an  em- 
inence overlooking  the  splendid  city,  and,  beyond  the 
long  streets  of  thickly-crowded  houses,  the  valley  of 
the  Tiete  sloped  down  from  the  Serra  do  Mar  to  the 
winding  stream  at  the  bottom.  Jaragua  loomed  up 
among  the  hills,  and  the  visitors,  ere  they  turned  in 
at  the  door,  caught  a passing  glimpse  of  its  lofty 
crown  through  the  thick  branches  of  the  bamboos 
which  grew  along  the  campus  walls  and  overhung 
the  street. 

The  upper  floors  of  the  building,  fitted  up  as  class- 
rooms, were  used  temporarily  for  dormitories,  and 
already  a number  of  students  were  arranging  their 
few  possessions  about  the  heads  of  their  beds  and 
upon  the  little  tables  that  stood  there. 


112 


Horacio 


In  the  office  they  found  the  house-master,  busied 
with  preparations  for  the  opening  of  the  term.  He 
was  a student  of  one  of  the  upper  classes  who  was 
working  his  way  through  college.  The  minister  ex- 
plained the  purpose  of  their  visit  and  presented  Ho- 
racio and  the  card  on  which  Dr.  Street  had  scratch- 
ed a few  hasty  words  of  instruction. 

Following  the  house-master,  they  all  ascended  to 
the  top-floor,  where  he  designated  an  iron  bed,  a hay 
mattress  and  a small  table  and  chair  for  the  new 
student. 

“ Here  is  where  I shall  put  you,”  he  said,  pointing 
to  the  bedstead  and  its  concomitants.  “ You  can 
send  your  box  when  you  will.  I shall  be  down-stairs 
and  receive  it.  You  will  need  a blanket : the  college 
furnishes  the  rest.  Bring  towels,  however,  and  any- 
thing else  you  may  be  likely  to  need.” 

They  thanked  him  and  took  tbeir  departure,  paus- 
ing a moment  to  catch  a glimpse  of  the  splendid  view 
from  the  upper  window,  as  they  descended  the  stairs. 

Returning  to  the  city,  Horacio  made  a few  neces- 
sary purchases  and,  refusing  the  hospitable  invitation 
of  his  new  friend  to  stop  at  his  home  until  the  open- 
ing of  school,  returned  to  the  College  with  his  small 
bundle  of  effects,  and  found  his  purchases  already 
there.  A small  box,  or  trunk,  some  clothing  and  bed- 
ding and  a few  small  odds  and  ends  made  up  the 
list.  Thrusting  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  he  drew 
out  the  remains  of  his  capital  and  spread  the  dirty, 
ragged  notes  upon  his  knee,  as  he  sat  upon  the  edge 
of  the  bed. 


The  Student 


113 


“ Ten  and  ten  are  twenty  and  twenty  are  forty, 
and  here  I have  six  more  and  some  nickels.  Not 
very  much  to  begin  with  ! Well,  a bad  beginning 
may  make  a good  ending.  We  shall  see.” 

The  bell  rang  for  dinner  and  Horacio  followed  the 
sound  to  the  refectory,  which  was  situated  at  a short 
distance  from  the  main  building.  Here  half  a dozen 
students  gathered  at  one  of  the  smaller  tables  with 
an  American  professor  at  one  end  and  the  house- 
master at  the  other.  All  remained  standing  until 
grace  was  said,  when  they  took  their  seats.  In  a 
moment  the  soup  went  around  and  the  conversation 
which  had  commenced,  was  lost  in  the  sound  of  suck- 
ing from  spoons. 

All  the  students  excepting  Horacio  were  evidently 
either  those  who  had  remained  during  the  holidays 
or  those  who  had  made  an  early  return  for  some 
special  reason,  nevertheless  they  showed  but  little 
interest  in  the  newcomer.  A plain  but  plentiful  din- 
ner of  roast  beef,  rice,  beans  and  another  vegetable, 
followed  the  soup,  and  black  coffee  was  the  only 
dessert.  After  dinner  the  boys  gathered  about  Ho- 
racio and  asked  a few  good-natured  questions,  with 
which  his  initiation  was  complete. 

The  day  of  the  opening  of  school  was  always  re- 
served for  the  setting  of  lessons  and  the  designation 
of  text-books.  A group  of  professors  stood  about 
the  office  with  books  and  papers  in  their  hands  and 
Dr.  Street  sat  at  his  desk  writing,  answering  ques- 
tions, and  giving  instructions.  The  electric  bells  rang 
and  the  boys  rushed  to  their  class-rooms. 


114 


Horacio 


Horacio  made  his  way  to  the  First  Year  room  and 
sat  down  at  a vacant  desk.  Boys  of  all  ages,  from 
thirteen  years  to  twenty-five,  filled  half  the  seats. 
No  more  than  half  the  class  was  present,  as  punc- 
tuality is  not  a Brazilian  virtue.  In  a few  moments, 
a half  dozen  girls  from  the  Girls’  Building — in  anoth- 
er part  of  the  city— filed  in  with  their  chaperon  and 
took  their  places. 

Instantly  every  head  was  turned  and  a buzz  of  low- 
voiced comment  ran  around  among  the  boys.  “ Oh, 
see  Mathilde  and  Emilia ! ” “I  never  thought  that 
Margarida  would  get  up  from  below  ! ” “ Oh,  what 

beautiful  eyes  Isabella  has  ! ” “ What  a beauty  Clara 
is  ! Um  ! Um  ! ” etc. 

The  girls  were  demure  and  seemingly  oblivious, 
but  the  chaperon  flushed  and  looked  sharply  at  the 
boys,  whereat  there  was  a momentary  lull  in  the  hum 
of  voices.  The  door  opened  with  a bang  and  the 
Doctor  thrust  his  head  in  and  as  quickly  withdrew  it. 

A hush  had  instantly  fallen  upon  the  class,  but  the 
hum  began  again  when  the  door  was  shut.  In  anoth- 
er moment  the  door  was  reopened  and  the  Doctor 
appeared  with  a strange  professor,  evidently  a for- 
eigner. 

“Mr.  Willcox,  boys  and  — ah — young  ladies,”  with 
a dry,  quizzical  smile  toward  the  latter.  “ Mr.  Will- 
cox will  have  the  classes  in  English.  As  he  has  but 
recently  arrived  and  speaks  no  Portuguese,  I shall 
explain  for  him  what  books  you  are  expected  to  se- 
cure.” 

When  he  had  finished,  the  Doctor  withdrew  and 


The  Student 


115“ 


conducted  the  new  professor  to  another  class-room, 
while  the  professors  of  French,  Algebra,  Portuguese, 
Latin,  History,  Drawing,  Bookkeeping,  etc.,  followed 
in  rapid  succession,  with  quick  words  of  greeting  and 
information.  The  Doctor  then  returned  and  dismiss- 
ed the  class,  waiting  while  the  girls  filed  out,  and 
then  throwing  the  door  open  for  the  boys. 

Horacio  had  taken  a careful  note  of  what  was  re- 
quired and,  when  he  had  secured  his  books  from  the 
house-master,  found  himself  only  the  somewhat  dis- 
mayed possessor  of  the  nickels  which  he  had  so  care- 
fully counted  after  making  his  purchases  in  the  city. 
That  evening  he  went  to  the  house  of  the  minister 
in  order  to  bid  farewell  to  his  friend  from  Jahu,  who 
was  returning  to  his  home  that  day,  after  the  session 
of  Presbytery. 

“ Well,  how  goes  it  ? ” enquired  the  little  man,  cor- 
dially, rubbing  his  hands  and  smiling.  Horacio  smil- 
ed back,  rather  doubtfully,  and  thrust  his  hand  into 
his  pocket  to  draw  forth  the  nickels  which  remained 
of  his  capital. 

“ Well,  well ! That  is  better  than  being  in  debt. 
Presbytery  has  voted  you  thirty  milreis(about  $7.50) 
a month,  on  the  condition  that  you  spend  your  va- 
cations in  evangelization,  of  which  work  you  will 
make  a careful  report  to  them.” 

The  load  was  lifted  from  the  student’s  heart.  The 
amount  was  small  but  it  would  suffice.  He  thanked 
his  friends  warmly  and,  after  a short  visit  with  them, 
bade  the  little  man  farewell  and  returned  to  the  school 
to  have  a dig  at  his  books. 


116 


Horacio 


The  days  went  swiftly  by  for  the  new  student,  and 
habits  of  study,  systematic  thought,  and  attention  came 
to  him  gradually.  With  the  other  boys  he  became 
but  slightly  acquainted  at  first  because  for  him  there 
was  no  time  for  foot-ball  — strange  and  fascinating 
game — nor  for  any  other  sports  or  recreation.  Splen- 
did health  and  iron  nerves  stood  him  in  good  stead, 
for  he  must  needs  distil  from  midnight  oil  the  oint- 
ment for  the  axles  of  learning.  He  was  ashamed  to 
stand  among  the  little  boys,  who  thought  him  slow. 

To  no  one  did  he  speak  of  himself  and  his  past 
life.  The  foot-ball  captain  would  have  sought  him 
out  had  he  suspected  his  strength  and  agility,  but 
meekness  and  shabby  clothes  will  bury  a Grant  or  a 
Napoleon,  and  Horacio  came  and  went,  about  his  dai- 
ly duties,  and  excited  but  little  comment. 

Once,  indeed,  the  pet  clown  of  the  school  marked 
him  for  a caipira,  or  hayseed,  and  tried  to  use  him 
as  a butt  for  jokes.  Each  day  at  lunch,  Horacio 
found  all  the  bananas  of  his  table  piled  beside  his 
plate.  Bananas  were  bad  at  that  season — hard  and 
coarse — and  none  of  the  boys  cared  very  much  for 
them.  The  young  man  was  puzzled  at  this  objectless 
bit  of  horse-play  — such  as  boys  delight  in  — but,  al- 
though he  flushed  a little  at  sight  of  the  great  heap 
of  somewhat  immature  fruit,  he  said  nothing  and  se- 
lected the  ripest  for  his  lunch,  then  broke  his  bread 
into  his  coffee  and  finished  his  meal. 

Each  day  he  chose  his  fruit  from  about  a bushel 
that  was  piled  about  his  plate.  Each  day  the  boys, 
with  mock  courtesy,  collected  and  presented  their 


The  Student 


117 


offerings.  Only  Horacio  ate  bananas  for  a week  or 
so,  and  then  they  tired  of  their  play  and  let  him  a- 
lone. 

After  study-hall,  in  the  evenings,  the  students  smok- 
ed in  the  dormitories,  and,  although  the  rules  against 
it  were  strict,  there  were  few  exceptions  to  the  law- 
breakers. Horacio  did  not  smoke  at  all. 

Some  few  days  after  the  opening  of  school,  four 
of  the  leaders  were  called  before  the  Dean  and  rep- 
rimanded. They  all  denied  the  fact,  but  their  denial 
was  not  believed.  That  night  a council-of-war  was 
held  among  the  boys.  Horacio  was  studying  at  his 
little  table  and  gave  no  heed  to  the  hum  of  voices. 
Presently  a young  man  who  was  leader  and  spokes- 
man of  the  dormitory — of  the  school,  in  fact,  being 
a cousin  of  the  President  of  Brazil — Cesario  de  Souza, 
touched  him  ceremoniously  on  the  shoulder  and  beck- 
oned him  to  the  group. 

Horacio  laid  down  his  books  with  a sigh  and,  run- 
ning his  fingers  through  his  unkempt  hair,  approach- 
ed the  little  conclave.  De  Souza  struck  an  attitude, 
inflating  his  chest  and  thrusting  the  thumb  of  his  left 
hand  into  the  armhole  of  his  vest,  waved  the  other 
hand  in  what  was  fancied  to  be  a gracefully  impress- 
ive gesture. 

“Colleague!”  he  began,  “the  honor  of  this  dormi- 
tory has  been  ruthlessly  outraged  and  trodden  under 
foot.  It  is  evident  that  we  have  a spy  and  telltale 
among  us.  Of  all  of  us  you  are  the  only  one  who 
does  not  smoke  and  disobey  the  rules.  Consequent- 
ly— ahem!”  — with  another  majestic  sweep  of  the 


118 


Horacio 


hand  — “ you  alone  can  be  suspected  of  this  base  be- 
trayal. What  have  you  to  say  ? ” 

“ Nothing,”  replied  the  young  man,  simply. 

“You  confess  your  guilt?”  cried  the  spokesman, 
amazed,  for  denial  is  expected  in  all  cases,  and  they 
were  planning  to  have  a little  mock-trial,  with  wit- 
nesses and  learned  counsel  on  each  side. 

“ I did  not  say  that,”  said  Horacio,  smiling  calmly. 
“ I was  merely  going  to  ask  what  concern  it  is  of 
yours.” 

A general  murmur  of  astonishment  was  heard  from 
the  boys.  Their  leader  stammered  out  an  explanation: 

“ Why,  esprit  de  corps,  nobility  of  sentiment,  class 
pride  should  prevent  such  ignoble  and  ungentleman- 
ly  behavior.” 

“ Muito  bem  ! Muito  bem  ! Apoiado  ! ” came  from 
all  sides. 

Horacio  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  though  he  con- 
sidered it  entirely  useless  to  carry  on  an  argument 
where  such  sentiments  received  such  cordial  and  u- 
nanimous  approval,  and  turned  to  go  back  to  his 
work. 

“ I have  no  time  to  give  to  such  nonsense,”  he  said, 
briefly. 

A bomb  could  not  have  caused  greater  consterna- 
tion. The  President’s  cousin  flushed  with  anger  and 
sprang  toward  Horacio,  pulling  him  around  again  by 
his  sleeve.  Horacio  colored,  but  turned  to  meet  him. 
De  Souza  was  white  with  wrath,  and  stammered  out : 

“We  are  not  through  with  you  yet,  Senhor  Hay- 
seed ! As  for  myself,  it  matters  nothing.  My  phys- 


The  Student 


119 


ician  has  told  Dr.  Street  that  I must  be  permitted  to 
smoke,  and  I have  his  permission,  but  I speak  for 
my  fellows.  We  want  no  sneaks  here  ! ” 

“ What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ? ” asked  Ho- 
ratio. He  was  very  quiet,  and  his  quietness  deceiv- 
ed the  boys. 

“ Do?  Do  ? ” stammered  De  Souza,  for  he  had  not 
thought  about  that.  “ You  will  find  out  soon  enough. 
Sneak  ! ” 

“ Look  here  ! ” said  Horacio,  who  was  tired  of  the 
affair  and  anxious  to  go  back  to  his  studying.  “You 
fellows  go  at  this  thing  your  own  way  and  no  doubt 
it  is  a very  good  way,  but  if  you  want  to  call  me 
ugly  names,  you  will  have  to  prove  facts  or  eat  words. 
See?  As  for  you,  Senhor  de  Souza,  I’ll  let  you  off 
this  time  on  condition  you  go  slow  in  future.” 

The  young  man  turned  his  back  contemptuously 
and  started  for  his  books.  This  coolness  and  con- 
tempt were  too  much  for  the  student-athlete  and  lead- 
er. Reaching  forward,  he  caught  Horacio  by  the  col- 
lar and  pulled  him  backward,  expecting  to  bring  him 
ignominiously  to  the  floor.  To  his  surprise,  Horacio’s 
body  was  stiff  and  resisting  under  his  hand.  Like  a 
flash  the  country  boy  turned  and  caught  his  assail- 
ant by  collar  and  handsome  scarf,  raising  him  from 
the  floor  and  shaking  him  like  a rat  with  both  hands ; 
then,  setting  him  down  hard  on  a wooden  chair,  he 
said,  without  quickening  a breath  : 

“ You  sit  there  and— think  ! ” and  then  he  laughed 
a good,  frank,  hearty,  open  laugh.  “ Now,  fellows,  I 
don’t  like  your  smoking.  It  isn’t  right  and,  if  I were 


120 


Horacio 


asked,  I should  tell  what  you  are  doing,  but  I am  no 
sneak  and  tattletale,  and  I tell  you  that  once  and  for 
all.  Nevertheless,  I think  I can  tell  you  how  the 
Doctor  found  out  about  the  matter.  Manoel,  look 
behind  your  trunk ! Joao,  look  behind  yours ! Pe- 
dro,— ah ! you  don’t  need  to  look.  You  know  what 
is  there.  Why  should  anyone  be  accused  of  tale- 
bearing with  all  those  cigarette  stumps  for  the  house- 
master to  see  ? ” 

The  boys  looked  at  one  another  sheepishly,  while 
De  Souza  sat  still  upon  his  chair  and  looked  dazed. 

Horacio  turned  his  back  for  the  third  time,  and 
soon  lost  himself  in  his  books.  The  next  day  the 
foot-ball  captain  asked  him  to  join  the  eleven  but 
he  declined. 

Three  months  after  the  opening  of  school,  Mr.  Will- 
cox,  having  learned  a few  sentences  of  Portuguese, 
was  made  house-master  of  the  building.  This  was  a 
grand  lark  for  the  boys.  The  new  professor  was  a 
little  man  and  very  ladylike.  He  also  suffered  great- 
ly from  homesickness,  and  wept  often  when  he  went 
to  call  upon  the  American  teachers  down  at  the  girls’ 
school.  His  modesty  hung  out  a never-failing,  red 
flag  at  the  slightest  call. 

One  night  Horacio  was  returning  from  his  monthly 
call  at  the . Minister’s  to  receive  his  allowance  from 
Presbytery.  Entering  the  school  building,  all  seemed 
strangely  quiet  below,  but  from  above  came  a distant 
sound  of  dancing  and  laughter.  The  young  man  won- 
dered that  Mr.  Willcox  was  not  about,  but  slowly 
mounted  the  stairs  on  his  way  to  his  room.  The 


The  Student 


121 


noise  grew  in  volume  as  he  ascended  and,  at  last, 
only  the  dormitory  doors  stood  between  him  and  pan- 
demonium. Slowly  he  turned  the  knob  and  entered. 
No  one  noticed  his  quiet  appearance  on  the  scene  ; 
so  he  paused  for  a moment  and  gazed  upon  a group 
which  carried  his  memory  back  to  the  days  when  the 
bugres  were  his  nearest  neighbors. 

There,  in  the  center  of  the  floor,  stood  little  Mr. 
Willcox,  suffused  with  blushes,  while  about  him  danc- 
ed the  inhabitants  of  all  the  dormitories,  joining  hand 
with  hand,  and  boasting  no  other  raiment  than  that 
which  Nature  had  given  them,  chanting  a dismal 
measure  and  prancing  around  in  a circle.  Horacio 
appreciated  the  situation  at  a glance  and  the  suffer- 
ing of  the  little  house-master,  and,  at  the  same  mo- 
ment that  he  grasped  the  meaning  of  the  performance, 
he  also  grasped  a pitcher  of  cold  water  and,  with- 
out a word  of  warning,  threw  the  entire  contents  over 
the  nude  young  scamps. 

A howl  of  dismay  arose  and  the  circle  broke  and 
fled.  At  first  they  thought  it  was  the  Doctor  who 
had  come  upon  them,  but,  when  they  saw  who  it 
was,  there  was  an  attempt  for  a moment  to  contest 
the  ground.  Pulling  a slat  from  one  of  the  beds, 
Horacio  herded  them  out  of  the  dormitory,  and,  gath- 
ering up  the  night-clothes  of  those  who  belonged  in 
his  room,  he  flung  them  out  after  them  into  the  hall, 
bidding  them  don  them  ere  they  attempted  to  return. 
A remembrance  of  the  strength  of  his  arm  brought 
them  discretion,  and  laughter  took  the  place  of  an- 
ger as  they  hastily  scrambled  into  their  garments. 


122 


Horacio 


Poor  Mr.  Willcox,  meanwhile,  sat  upon  a chair  with 
his  head  bowed  upon  the  table,  and,  as  Horacio  could 
speak  no  English  and  he  no  Portuguese,  he  could  find 
no  way  to  comfort  him. 

A knock  came  at  the  door,  in  which  Horacio  had 
turned  the  key.  He  stepped  forward  and  opened  it, 
laughing  as  he  saw  the  long  string  of  night-robed 
boys  waiting  to  enter.  The  boys  laughed,  too. 

“Now,  fellows,”  said  the  young  man,  persuasively, 
“ Meestare  Veelcox  is  very  badly  hurt.  I think  you 
ought  to  do  the  fair  thing.  Don’t  you  think  so  ? 
Here,  Guilherme— come  and  interpret ! You  speak 
English.  Meestare  Veelcox  ! ” he  called,  to  the  mor- 
tified and  discomfited  house-master. 

Mr.  Willcox  lifted  his  head  and  Horacio  beckoned. 
The  little  professor  came  toward  him  and  Guilherme 
advanced  shamefacedly  from  the  group  of  students. 

“Mr.  Willcox,”  said  the  interpreter,  “the  boys  want 
to  say  that  they  are  sorry  and  hope  that  you  won’t 
say  anything  to  the  Doctor.” 

This  last  was  a stroke  of  diplomacy,  but  the  house- 
master’s face  immediately  cleared  and  brightened. 

“ Oh,  of  course  not,”  he  said,  eagerly,  “unless  he 
asks  me  about  it,  for  he  may  hear  of  it  in  some  oth- 
er way.  But  I do  hope  you  boys  will  be  a little  more 
orderly  ! I cannot  talk  to  you  in  your  language  or 
it  would  be  easier  for  all  of  us.” 

Guilherme  interpreted  and,  one  by  one,  the  boys 
stepped  up  and  shook  hands,  mumbling  sheepishly 
all  sorts  of  apologies,  which  only  Horacio’s  presence 
kept  from  being  ridiculous  in  their  tenor,  for  the  stu- 


The  Student 


123 


dents  would  often  take  advantage  of  a teacher’s  lack 
of  knowledge  of  the  language  to  solemnly  get  off  all 
sorts  of  absurdities  or  even  obscenities,  in  order  to 
divert  their  comrades ; all  of  which  the  teacher  must 
perforce  accept  as  proper  replies  until  familiar  with 
all  the  intricate,  idiomatic  turns  and  twists  of  the 
language. 

This  ceremony  finished,  Mr.  Willcox  went  down 
the  stairs  to  his  own  room  and  Horacio  turned  to 
his  studies. 

Six  months  of  school  life  soon  passed  away  and, 
by  dint  of  the  hardest  labor  and  the  most  earnest 
application,  the  young  student  made  up  the  studies 
in  which  he  stood  behind  his  class,  and  made  such 
further  progress,  with  the  aid  of  Mr.  Willcox,  who 
laid  out  for  him  special  reading  and  gave  him  night- 
classes,  that,  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  semester, 
he  was  able  to  take  his  place  among  the  students  of 
the  Second  Year.  Mathematics  had  been  his  bete 
no'r  History,  Latin  and  French  were  play  for  him, 
as  they  are  for  all  Brazilian  boys,  and  in  the  Eng- 
lish, his  new  friend  had  given  him  a substantial  lift. 

Life  had  now  become  less  of  a continual  drudgery 
to  him  and  he  was  able  to  give  time  to  foot-ball  and 
also  to  aid  the  Reverend  Manoel’s  church.  With  the 
beginning  of  the  new  semester,  he  took  up  the  study 
of  physics  and  chemistry  with  his  class.  Their  pro- 
fessor in  these  branches  was  a much-bedoctored,  but 
very  eccentric,  American,  well  liked  and  equally  well 
tormented  by  the  boys.  Horacio  found  it  almost  im- 
possible to  contain  himself  at  sight  of  the  daily  af- 


124 


Horacio 


fronts  offered  him  by  the  young  scamps. 

“ Manoel ! ” the  teacher  would  say,  “ what  is  the 
principle  of  the  air-pump  ? ” 

“ Manoel ! ” all  the  students  would  demand,  in  con- 
cert, and  imitating  the  peculiar  Portuguese  of  their 
instructor,  “what  is  the  principle  of  the  air-pump  ? ” 

“ Boys  ! I do  not  need  your  assistance,”  objects 
Mr.  Franklin. 

“ Boys  ! He  does  not  need  our  assistance,”  cries 
the  class,  in  unison.  “ Everybody  be  silent ! ” With 
looks  of  ludicrously  exaggerated  reproof  each  boy 
gazes  innocently  about  him  at  his  comrades. 

Silence  for  a moment  and  the  teacher  tries  to  go 
on.  “ Manoel,  what  is  the  principle  of  the  air-pump  ? ” 

“The  principle  of  the  air-pump  is....”  choruses  the 
class,  in  a disorderly  clamor. 

“ Manoel ! Manoel,  I said,”  interposes  Mr.  Frank- 
lin, nervously. 

“ Manoel,  he  said  ! Manoel ! Only  Manoel ! ” comes 
from  all  sides,  and  then  a great  wad  of  filter-paper 
sails  over  the  heads  of  the  class  and  alights  upon 
the  teacher’s  desk,  just  missing  his  nose  in  its  descent. 
Boys  leave  their  places  and  walk  about  the  room  on 
a pretence  of  making  sundry  experiments,  and  bang 
the  apparatus  noisily  on  the  tables. 

Horacio  did  what  serious  work  he  could,  but  felt 
that  his  progress  in  these  studies  was  slow. 

Mr.  Franklin,  whose  specialty  was  Botany,  had 
planted  an  experimental  garden  with  rows  of  seeds 
of  various  sorts,  in  a patch  of  ground  which  the  Doc- 
tor had  ceded  to  him  for  the  purpose. 


The  Student 


125 


One  day  Horacio  passed  that  way  and  noticed  the 
long  rows  of  little  sticks  with  names  of  the  various 
plants.  Others  had  noticed  it  also,  and  planned  to 
assist  Nature  in  giving  the  Botanist  a fine  crop.  That 
night  a deputation  of  boys  skirmished  about  the  dor- 
mitories with  a big  basket,  and  then  visited  the  oth- 
er dormitory  where  the  ninety  small  boys  of  the  low- 
er school  lived. 

The  next  morning,  as  Horacio  went  to  take  his  cof- 
fee in  the  refectory,  a strange  sight  met  his  eyes. 
On  the  little  botanical  sticks  were  perched  hundreds 
of  old  shoes  with  their  toes  all  pointing  in  the  same 
direction,  each  little  stick  being  provided  with  its  own 
individual  shoe.  A group  of  boys,  convulsed  with 
laughter,  gathered  about  the  wonderful  garden. 

“Hush,  boys!  Here  comes  Meestare  Frankleen,” 
cried  one,  as  the  fat  little  professor  came  waddling 
along  toward  the  refectory.  The  group  became  si- 
lent for  a moment,  but,  as  Mr.  Franklin  approached, 
one  of  them,  who  was  a little  more  audacious  than 
the  rest,  sidled  forward  and  greeted  him. 

“Oh,  Meestare  Frankleen,’’  he  enquired,  innocent- 
ly, “ what  strange  plants  are  these  which  you  have 
set  out  here  ? ” 

The  Professor  of  Botany,  and  many  other  things, 
gazed  in  astonishment  at  the  strange  freak  of  Nature  ; 
then,  as  the  truth  burst  upon  him,  a feeble  grin 
flickered  about  his  mouth  and  he  shambled  away  in 
haste  to  get  his  coffee,  leaving  the  crop  to  be  gar- 
nered by  the  janitor. 

Thus  the  year  ran  on  and  Horacio  made  steady 


126 


Horacio 


progress.  When  the  summer  vacation  began,  in  De- 
cember, with  the  consent  of  the  Minister,-  he  accept- 
ed employment  in  the  City,  and  gave  all  his  spare 
time  to  study  and  mission  work.  We  cannot  follow 
him  through  his  school  life  but  must  look  forward 
to  the  end  of  his  second  year,  when,  on  taking  his 
examinations,  he  received  the  diploma  which  would 
enable  him  to  enter  the  Seminary  and  begin  his  theo- 
logical course. 


'?/■ 


7 

COLPORTEUR. 


O R A C I 0 was  hoping  to  be  able 
to  take  the  three  years  at  the  Sem- 
inary in  two,  by  working  hard,  day 
and  night,  as  he  had  done  through- 
out his  preparatory,  and,  light  of 
heart,  he  said  good-by  to  his  com- 
rades and  started  upon  a long  trip 
into  the  interior  to  sell  Bibles  and  other  good  books, 
and  do  such  humble  preaching  of  the  Gospel  as  he 
might  be  able. 

Riding  second-class  on  the  train  as  far  as  Sao  Man- 
oel,  he  found  his  faithful  Bonito,  who  had  been  loan- 
ed him  for  the  journey  by  Sor  Francisco  and  had 
been  sent  to  Sao  Manoel  in  response  to  a letter  from 
the  young  man.  Signs  of  age  had  begun  to  manifest 
themselves  in  the  sturdy  beast,  but,  to  Horacio’s  joy, 
he  gave  every  evidence  of  recognizing  his  old  mas- 
ter, and  whinnied  and  caressed  the  young  man  as  he 


THE 


128 


Horacio 


flung  his  arms  about  his  neck. 

The  next  bay  Horacio  set  out  upon  his  journey, 
with  saddle-bags  well  stuffed  with  books,  and  turned 
Bonito’s  head  once  more  toward  the  sertao.  At  ev- 
ery ranch  and  house  along  the  way,  the  colporteur 
paused  to  display  his  wares.  The  books,  furnished 
by  the  Bible  Society  at  much  less  than  cost,  were  very 
attractive,  in  leather  and  gold  and  metal-clasps ; and 
the  young  man’s  ancient  experience  as  a merchant 
came  in  play  again  to  gain  him  a hearing  and  a sale 
for  his  books. 

As  night  fell,  he  found  himself  following  between 
interminable  barbed-wire  fences,  with  endless  coffee 
on  either  hand,  and  at  last  came  to  the  fazenda-house 
of  some  rich  proprietor.  Although  he  would  have 
preferred  an  humbler  dwelling,  there  seemed  to  be 
no  choice,  and  so  he  turned  his  horse’s  head  toward 
the  house  and  rode  up  the  long  avenue,  between 
beds  of  flowers,  fountains  and  long  rows  of  orange 
trees  laden  with  their  golden  fruit  and  fragrant  blos- 
soms. 

An  almost  palatial  mansion  met  his  eyes  at  last, 
and,  as  he  approached  the  building  and  clapped  his 
hands  to  attract  attention,  the  bookkeeper  came  from 
his  office  on  the  lower  floor  and  enquired  what  he 
would  have. 

The  young  man  explained  that  he  was  traveling 
and  selling  books  and,  as  night  had  overtaken  him, 
would  like  to  have  a bed  and  food  for  himself  and 
feed  for  his  horse. 

The  bookkeeper  courteously  bade  him  dismount 


The  Colporteur  129 


and  he  would  call  the  Manager,  who,  upon  hearing 
what  the  stranger  had  to  say,  ascended  to  the  prin- 
cipal floor  and  consulted  with  the  owner,  an  elderly 
Brazilian  lady  who  was  reputed  to  be  the  wealthiest 
person  in  the  whole  country. 

Horacio  already  knew  her  palatial  home  in  Sao  Paulo 
by  sight  and  was  somewhat  taken  aback  at  thought 
of  thus  thrusting  himself  upon  her  hospitality ; but 
the  Manager  came  down  in  a moment  and  bade  him 
enter,  while  he  called  a servant  to  take  his  horse  to 
the  stable. 

The  old  lady  greeted  him  pleasantly  upon  the  up- 
per veranda  and  sent  a servant  with  him  to  a small 
room  at  the  back  of  the  house,  bidding  him  haste, 
as  dinner  was  about  to  be  served. 

Horacio  made  his  way  somewhat  awkwardly  across 
the  gleaming,  marble  floors  and,  after  a wash,  in 
which  part  of  the  red  dust  came  off  in  the  soap-and- 
water  and  a more  than  equal  amount  on  the  hand- 
some towels,  came  forth  to  seat  himself  at  the  great 
table,  covered  with  fine  linen,  porcelain  and  glitter- 
ing silver. 

A number  of  guests  sat  at  the  table  and  also  the 
Manager  and  his  daughter,  which  latter  acted  as  the 
personal  attendant  of  the  old  lady.  The  blazing  gas- 
lights, numerous  Well-trained  servants  gliding  noise- 
lessly about,  and  the  play  of  badinage  and  repartee, 
all  combined  to  cause  the  young  man  to  shrink  into 
himself.  His  hostess  raised  her  tortoise-shell  lorgnette 
to  discover  if  he  were  well  served.  Horacio  winced 
and  almost  dodged. 


130 


Horacio 


“You  have  no  wine,  young  man!  Maria,-— fill  his 

glass  ! ” 

“ Thank  you,  but  I do  not  take  it,”  replied  Horac- 
io, nervously. 

“ Ah  ! Perhaps  you  will  have  beer  ? Maria,  open 
a bottle  and  set  it  there  ! ” 

“Thank  you!  I do  not  take  anything  save  water,” 
protested  the  young  man,  much  embarrassed. 

“ Here  is  sweet  wine,”  insisted  his  hostess,  with  a 
look  of  ill-concealed  astonishment.  “ I do  not  know 
what  it  is— Oporto  or  Madeira.  Maria,  set  the  decant- 
er near  him  ! ” 

The  terrible  lorgnette  turned  away  before  Horacio 
could  stammer  out  a word  of  refusal  and  he  had  to 
let  the  glass  which  the  servant  had  filled,  stand  by 
his  plate  untouched.  He  was  too  timid  to  ask  for 
water  now,  although  very  thirsty  from  his  hot  and 
dusty  ride. 

His  hostess  had  lowered  her  lorgnette  and  joined 
in  the  conversation  with  a bit  of  spicy  gossip.  A rip- 
ple of  laughter  greeted  the  old  lady’s  sally.  Horacio 
had  heard  such  stories,  in  grosser  language,  at  the 
camp-fire  and  in  the  barracks. 

The  plates  were  deftly  removed  as  soon  as  emptied, 
or  even  whenever  the  knives  and  forks  were  acci- 
dentally laid  side-by-side  upon  them  for  a moment. 
Each  time  that  a fresh  plate,  knife  and  fork  were 
set  before  him,  he  perceived  with  a little  start  of 
surprise  that  the  meal  was  not  finished,  as  he  had 
supposed.  He  also  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  the 
guests  here  did  not  put  their  knives  in  their  mouths. 


The  Colporteur  131 


In  the  school  this  had  not  been  brought  to  his  at- 
tention, although  he  had  learned  the  use  of  a nap- 
kin there. 

From  time  to  time  the  old  lady  paused  in  her  con- 
versation and  directed  her  lorgnette  at  his  plate, 
plunging  him  into  momentary  panic.  At  last  the  des- 
sert came  upon  the  table.  Horacio  was  fond  of  “doce” 
and  quickly  emptied  his  plate.  Again  the  terrible 
lorgnette  ! 

“ Will  you  not  have  more  ? ” she  asked. 

“ Obliged  ! ” replied  Horacio,  hesitatingly. 

“ Obliged,  yes,  or  obliged,  no  ? ” queried  Donna  Vir- 
ginia. “Ah,  you  say  nothing!  Then  it  is  obliged, 
yes—is  it  not  ? Carlos,  pass  his  plate  to  me  ! ” Ho- 
racio smiled  and  made  no  resists^pe. 

Shallow  glasses  with  long  stems  stood  near  each 
plate  and  the  colporteur  had  been  wondering  what 
could  be  their  object.  A yellow  liquid  was  now 
poured  into  them  and,  as  it  bubbled  and  sparkled, 
all  of  them  raised  their  glasses  and  saluted  one  an- 
other about  the  table,  sipping  from  their  glasses  and 
clinking  them  together  before  putting  them  to  their 
lips.  This  was  a novelty,  and  cold  beads  of  perspi- 
ration stood  out  on  the  young  man’s  brow  as  he  no- 
ticed that  the  eyes  of  all  were  fixed  upon  him. 

Again  the  glasses  were  raised  and  the  salutations 
ran  around.  A gentleman  waved  his  glass  toward 
Horacio,  muttered  a polite  phrase,  and  waited.  All 
eyes  were  now  again  turned  toward  the  colporteur,  in 
amused  expectancy. 

“Do  you  not  accept?”  asked  the  gentleman,  of 


132 


Horacio 


Horacio. 

The  young  man  seized  a glass  of  water  that  stood 
at  his  neighbor’s  place,  so  hurriedly  that  some  of  it 
spilled  and  ran  down  his  chin.  The  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  family  snickered  audibly  and  their  elders 
could  not  altogether  restrain  their  amusement,  but, 
thereafter,  they  let  him  alone.  Presently  the  old 
lady  asked  him  whither  he  would  be  going. 

“I  am  on  my  way  to  the  sertao,”  he  replied,  “and 
in  two  days  I hope  to  be  in  the  forest.  I am  sell- 
ing books.” 

“Books!  What  kind  of  books?  Will  you  show 
them  to  us  after  dinner  ? Perhaps  we  may  buy  some.” 

“ With  pleasure,”  answebed  the  colporteur,  “ but 
they  are  ProtestanL  books.  I have  many  nice  Bibles. 
It  is  the  translatiOT  of  Padre  Figueiredo,  approved 
by  the  Queen  of  Portugal  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Lisbon.” 

“ Ah ! ” said  Donna  Virginia,  smiling,  “ we  entertain 
everybody  here.  One  day  it  is  a priest  and  the  next 
it  is  a heretic.  I am  glad  to  see  that  your  hands 
are  clean,  young  man ! The  priests  do  not  always 
have  clean  hands.  Oh,  I do  wish  our  padres  would 
keep  themselves  dean  ! ” 

“ Mother  ! ” exclaimed  a matronly  daughter,  depre- 
catingly. 

“No,  no — don’t  ‘mother’  me!  It  does  seem  to  me 
that  priests  ought  to  be  clean  though  all  the  world 
beside  be  soiled.  There  was  Padre  Antonio,  who 
stopped  here  the  other  day.  His  hands  were  dread- 
ful, and  his  linen — oh,  it  was  a sight ! I do  assure 


The  Colporteur  133 

you.  He  ate  with  his  knife  and  murdered  his  Por- 
tuguese. 

“ No,  I don’t  like  that  kind  of  priests  any  better 
than  I like  heretics— begging  your  pardon,  young 
man  ! - ■ for  I presume  you  are  a heretic  if  you  sell 
Protestant  books.  What  do  heretics  believe,  any- 
way ? I have  always  had  a great  curiosity  to  know.” 

Horacio  flushed  at  finding  himself  the  center  of  at- 
tention again,  but  answered  valiantly : “ We  believe 
in  the  Bible.  We  believe  that  all  men  are  sinners 
and  can  by  no  possibility  enter  heaven  through  their 
own  virtues,  nor  by  any  other  means  save  the  death 
of  Jesus  Christ.  We  believe  that  He  died  that  we, 
by  repentance  and  beh'ef,  might  be  saved.  That  is 
all.  We  do  not  believe  in  the  traditions  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  nor  in  the  worship  of  the  Saints 
and  the  Virgin.” 

“ Santa  Maria ! He  has  his  creed  on  his  tongue’s 
end,”  laughed  Donna  Virginia,  “ and  yet  it  is  not 
bad — -what  he  says.  I do  not  know  why  the  priests 
should  make  such  a fuss  about  it.....” 

“ Mamae  ! ” interrupted  a young  granddaughter,  ap- 
pealing to  the  matronly  lady  who  had  tried  to  re- 
strain Donna  Virginia  a moment  before, — “ mamae  ! 
Eponina  wanted  to  get  married  to  Joaozinho  to-day.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed  several,  in  chorus,  “ she  is  on- 
ly eleven,  and  he  can’t  be  more  than  fourteen.” 

“That  is  what  Padre  Joaquim  said,”  continued  the 
little  miss,  demurely.  “ He  opened  her  dress  at  the 
neck  and  told  her  to  go  home  and  wait  a year.” 

“ Cruz  e credo  ! There— that  will  do  ! You  are 


134 


Horacio 


too  young  to  be  concerned  about  such  matters,”  ex- 
claimed her  mother,  with  embarrasment. 

“ I saw  something  funny  the  other  day,”  interpos- 
ed one  of  the  gentlemen,  hastily,  to  create  a diver- 
sion. “ I was  going  up  to  Sao  Raphael  and  we  had 
to  stop  for  a couple  of  hours  at  Cordeiros  for  the 
other  train.  There  was  a group  of  Italians  hanging 
about  a house  that  was  being  built,  across  the  way. 
Presently  we  heard  a great  fussing  and  chattering 
over  there  and  so  we  all  went  across  to  investigate. 

“We  found  a fellow  stamping  around,  wringing  his 
hands  and  weeping— yes,  crying  like  a great  child, 
kicking  the  loose  bricks  and  mortar  with  his  toe,  and 
staring  at  the  ground.” 

“What  was  the  matter?  Was  he  crazy?”  asked 
one  of  the  ladies,  as  he  paused  for  an  instant. 

“ Crazy  ! Not  much  ! — as  you  will  see.  I asked 
what  the  trouble  was.  It  seems  that  the  fellow  had 
always  kept  a twenty-franc  gold-piece  to  remind  him- 
self of  home,  and,  somehow  or  other,  he  had  lost  it 
in  the  rubbish. 

“ ‘ Oh,  San  Genaro  ! ’ he  was  wailing.  ‘ Oh,  San 
Genaro ! Giva  me  ma  twenty  liri  back  again  ! ’ and 
all  the  time  he  was  kicking  the  bricks  and  mortar  a- 
round  and  wringing  his  hands.  Presently  he  stopped 
and  put  his  hands  together  like  a child  in  prayer, 
and  said,  ‘ Oh,  San  Genaro,  giva  me  ma  vinti  liri  and 
I giva  thee  one  for  thine  altar.  Coma  now — good 
Saint ! — seeka  the  gold  for  me  1 ’ 

“ He  looked  about  on  the  ground  but  did  not  find 
the  money.  Then  he  tore  his  hair  and  wept  some 


The  Colporteur  135 


more,  but,  by-and-by,  he  stopped  and  prayed  again  : 
‘ Oh,  coma  now,  San  Genaro,  seeka  me  ma  leetle 
piega  monnee — ma  one  leetle  piega  monnee  ! I giva 
due  liri ! ’ Again  he  looked  on  the  ground,  with  the 
same  success  as  before,  and  so  he  went  on,  wheed- 
ling the  Saint  and  gradually  increasing  his  bids  until 
he  had  promised  the  whole  piece  for  its  restoration.” 

“Que  engragado  ! And  he  found  it  then,  of  course? ” 
queried  Donna  Virginia,  incredulously. 

“You  may  laugh  all  you  want,  tia  mine,”  replied 
the  young  man,  with  a smile,  “but  the  actual  fact  is 
that  the  poor  fellow  had  no  sooner  promised  the  en- 
tire gold-piece  than  he  kicked  it  out  of  the  ground, 
where  he  had  been  trampling  it  all  the  while.” 

“ I don’t  see  why  not,”  murmured  one  of  the  young 
ladies,  “ he  was  probably  sincere  in  appealing  to  the 
Saint.” 

“ Wait  until  you  hear  the  rest,  cousin,”  laughed  the 
narrator.  “ Well,  then  ; when  he  got  the  coin  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  forefinger,  you  ought  to  have 
seen  the  play  of  emotions  on  his  face  ! First,  I think 
it  was  incredulity  mingled  with  awe,  which  slowly 
faded  into  a sly  leer  of  cupidity  and  craft.  ‘ Ah,  ha  ! ’ 
he  cried,  addressing  the  Saint,  ‘ San  Genaro, — you 
old  rogue  ! So  you  thoughta  to  put  up  a jobba  on 
me  ! Corpo  di  Baccho ! You  coma  getta  the  mon- 
nee ! I giva  to  you  when  you  coma  getta.  Addio  ! ’ 
and  the  sly  rascal  thrust  the  coin  into  his  pocket 
and  made  off  down  the  road  as  if  he  expected  the 
Saint  to  take  after  him.” 

A roar  of  laughter  went  up  from  the  table,  but 


136 


Horacio 


Horacio  noticed  that  the  young  ladies  looked  fright- 
ened. 

“ What  happened  to  the  man  then  ? ” suddenly  ask- 
ed the  young  lady  who  had  spoken  before  and  whose 
interest  had  been  intense,  turning  an  eager,  naive 
face  toward  her  cousin.  A second  shout  of  laughter 
greeted  her  query,  and,  in  great  confusion,  she  re- 
tired behind  the  epergne  and  a deep  blush.  Her 
mother  came  to  her  rescue. 

“ There,  never  mind,  Paulina ! They  ought  not  to 
laugh.  ’Tis  only  a case  of  ‘beads  in  the  hand  and 
the  devil  in  the  heart’.  Why,  only  the  other  day  I 
heard  of  a similar  case.  Donna  Ernestina  Franco 
lost  her  comb  and  prayed  to  the  Saint  to  find  it, 
and,  shortly  afterward,  she  found  it  just  where  she 
had  looked  a moment  before.  Well ! She  laughed 
and  said,  ‘ Pooh  ! If  I’d  looked  sharper  the  first  time, 
I should  have  found  it.’  The  very  next  day  she  lost 
it  again  and— -never— found-—it ! ” 

“ Cruz  e credo  ! ” exclaimed  Donna  Paulina,  jump- 
ing up  a wee  bit  in  her  seat  and  provoking  another 
laugh  at  her  expense. 

“ Speaking  of  Donna  Ernestina,  it  seems  that  both 
of  her  children  are  going  to  be  deaf  mutes,”  said  the 
Manager,  joining  in  the  conversation. 

“ That’s  what  comes  of  marrying  cousins  ! ” exclaim- 
ed one  of  the  gentlemen.  “ That  is  one  thing  I nev- 
er will  do  ! We  Brazilians  ought  to  be  getting  civiliz- 
ed enough  by  this  time  to  know  better.” 

“ Oh,  nonsense,  Francisco  ! You  know  you  would 
marry  a cousin  any  time  if  it  kept  the  property  to- 


The  Colporteur  13  7 


gether.  Why,  I married  my  own  uncle  when  I was 
only  thirteen  and  you  children  are  bright  enough — 
too  sharp  for  me,  sometimes  ! ” 

“ Yes,  there  are  exceptions,  of  course,  but  look  at 
old  Totuco,  over  at  Lageado  — he  has  five  children 
and  they  are  all  deaf  mutes.  He  married  his  cousin. 
I was  talking  about  it  with  him  the  other  day  and 
it  seemed  to  amuse  him.  He  commenced  philosophiz- 
ing about  it.  ‘ There  is  my  neighbor,  Sor  Reynaldo,’ 
he  said,  ‘ he  married  his  cousin  about  the  same  time 
I married  mine.  He  has  five  children,  also,  and  they 
are  all  idiots — te,  he  ! —-while  mine  are  all  smart  as 
a whip.’  He  seemed  to  think  it  a good  joke — the  old 
rascal ! Do  you  know,  he  is  as  rich  as  Croesus  and 
he  won’t  send  one  of  them  to  a school  for  the  deaf 
and  dumb  but  has  already  married  one  of  the  girls 
to  a good-for-nothing  fellow  who  lives  over  there. 
The  old  man  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself ! He 
has  ninety  thousand  acres  in  the  home-ranch,  not  to 
mention  a couple  of  other  ranches  he  has,  over  on 
the  Rio  Negro.” 

Coffee  having  been  served,  a company  of  musicians, 
selected  from  the  Italian  laborers  on  the  great  plan- 
tation, struck  up  a schottische,  in  the  music-room  be- 
neath. The  company  adjourned  to  the  large  sitting- 
room  and  Donna  Virginia  bade  Horacio  show  them 
his  books. 

A servant  went  to  fetch  the  saddle-bags,  and,  in 
the  hush  between  two  pieces  of  music  from  the  band, 
a sound  of  distant  singing  came  from  the  direction 
of  the  village,  or  colony. 


138 


Horacio 


The  young  people  rushed  to  the  door,  and  all  went 
out  upon  the  veranda  to  see  what  was  going  on. 

Far  off  across  the  lake,  a long  train  of  flickering 
candles  bobbed  in  a wavering  line  down  the  village 
street,  to  the  accompaniment  of  a weird  and  mystic 
chant,  which  rose  and  fell  in  charming  harmony,  to 
which  the  distance  lent  a most  enchanting  effect. 

For  a moment  the  procession  paused  at  the  chap- 
el, then  turned  toward  the  house  and  came  down 
upon  the  long  causeway,  across  which  the  little  points 
of  light  fluttered  ever  nearer  and  nearer. 

Donna  Virginia  called  the  Manager,  as  soon  as  she 
saw  that  the  procession  was  turning  toward  them, 
and  bade  him  illuminate  the  front  of  the  building. 
In  a few  moments  the  brilliant  acetylene  gas-lights 
flared  out  at  numerous  points  over  the  doors  and  at 
the  angles  of  the  mansion,  and  slowly  the  procession 
swayed  toward  them  across  the  long  causeway.  The 
young  ladies  were  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight,  and  to  the 
most  indifferent  there  could  not  fail  to  be  a certain 
charm.  At  the  great  black  cross  in  the  garden  it 
paused  again  and,  by  the  wavering  candle-light,  Ho- 
racio read  the  white  letters  upon  it,  “ 0 crux,  ave 
spes  unica  nostra.” 

The  weird  chant  came  ever  nearer  and  nearer  and 
now  the  persons  gathered  upon  the  veranda  could 
make  out  the  litter  with  the  image  of  the  Virgin, 
borne  upon  the  shoulders  of  four  maidens  at  the  head 
of  the  procession.  Upon  arriving  in  front  of  the 
house  they  paused  again  and  finished  their  song — 
then  all  cried,  together : “ Viva  Donna  Virginia  ! ” and 


The  Colporteur  139 

passed  on  again,  along  the  driveway  toward  the  vil- 
lage. 

The  band  now  played  another  selection  and  Horacio 
spread  his  books  upon  the  table  while  all  gathered 
around  to  see  them. 

“Is  this  the  Bible?”  queried  Donna  Paulina,  touch- 
ing a handsome  volume  gingerly  with  the  tip  of  her 
dainty  finger. 

“Yes,  that  is  the  complete  Bible,”  replied  the  col- 
porteur, holding  it  out  toward  her.  The  young  lady 
drew  her  hands  behind  her  and  shuddered  slightly, 
turning  away.  Some  of  the  others,  however,  turned 
its  leaves  with  ill-constrained  curiosity. 

“ What  is  this  copy  worth  ? ” asked  Donna  Virgin- 
ia, lifting  a large  Bible,  in  limp  morocco,  which  she 
had  been  examining. 

“ It  is  worth  a fortune,  senhora,  but  I sell  it  for 
four  milreis.” 

“Four  milreis!”  cried  the  lady,  in  astonishment, 
“ you  cannot  mean  this  one.  Why,  that  is  giving  it 
away  ! ” 

“The  Gospel  ought  to  be  free,  senhora,”  replied 
Horacio.  “ These  books  are  sold  at  less  than  cost  to 
the  publisher  in  order  that  all  may  have  the  privi- 
lege of  buying  and  reading.” 

“ I shall  take  this  one,”  she  said,  smiling,  for  she 
was  not  too  rich  to  be  pleased  at  the  thought  of  get- 
ting a bargain-then  adding,  as  if  in  excuse  for  her 
action, — “ I want  to  tease  Padre  Joaquim  a bit.” 

One  of  the  gentlemen  purchased  one  also,  and  then 
Horacio  put  his  books  away. 


140 


Horacio 


The  next  morning  he  continued  his  journey,  after 
a delightfully  cold  shower-bath.  He  was  too  much 
of  a Brazilian  not  to  know  better  than  to  offer  any 
compensation  other  than  his  most  cordial  thanks  for 
the  hospitable  entertainment  which  he  had  received, 
and  Donna  Virginia  gave  him  a hearty  shake  of  the 
hand  and  hospitably  bade  him  visit  her  again,  when- 
ever he  might  pass  that  way. 

At  about  eleven  o’clock  he  ate  his  breakfast  at  the 
humbler  dwelling  of  a small  farmer,  where  he  had 
paused  to  sell  some  books,  and  there  he  urged  the 
acceptance  of  remuneration  for  the  meal,  but  the 
kindly  caboclo  would  not  accept  a vintem.  That 
night  he  approached  an  extensive  and  well-kept  fa- 
zenda and  rode  up  to  the  door  to  ask  hospitality. 
A large,  dark-featured  man  came  to  the  door,  in  re- 
sponse to  the  clapping  of  his  hands,  and  bade  him 
dismount  and  enter,  before  he  would  even  listen  to 
what  he  had  to  say. 

Horacio  finally  managed  to  make  his  wants  known 
and  the  man  shook  him  cordially  by  the  hand. 

“ Come  in  ! Come  in  ! ” he  cried,  heartily,  drawing 
him  toward  the  door.  “Never  mind  about  your 
horse  ! Joao  ! Come  here  and  get  the  gentleman’s 
horse ! I suspect  you  are  one  of  those  fellows  from 
Sao  Paulo — from  the  American  School.  The  old  man 
is  here  to-night  but  that  don’t  make  no  difference. 
He  won’t  care.  He  likes  to  have  a chat  with  any- 
one that  will  talk  with  him,  and  we  have  plenty  of 
room  for  you  in  the  house.” 

“The  old  man?”  said  Horacio,  interrogatively. 


The  Colporteur  1 4 1 


“ Why,  yes,  his  Reverence,  to  be  sure.  Didn’t  you 
know  that  this  place  belonged  to  Padre  Malachias, 
Canon  of  the  See  ? You  know  the  Church  of  the 
See — there,  in  the  Largo  da  Se,  in  Sao  Paulo  ? Hav- 
en’t you  ever  seen  the  old  man  there,  in  the  City  ? ” 

“ Yes,  yes,  of  course.  I remember  now,  but  I was 
not  expecting  to  find  him  way  up  here,  in  the  edge 
of  the  sertao.” 

“ Well,  here  he  is ! This  fazenda  is  his  by  inheri- 
tance. He  didn’t  get  it  out  of  the  poor,-— jolly  old 
beggar  ! He’ll  never  get  much  that  way.  His  living 
costs  him  a pretty  penny  all  the  time,  and  if  it  were 
not  for  this  fazenda  he  would  not  be  Canon  of  the 
See.  I'd  hate  to  know  what  it  cost  him  in  the  first 
place — from  old  Peter’s  successor.  No,  I don’t  want 
to  know — it  would  make  me  feel  too  bad,  but  if  the 
old  chap  sticks  to  it,  and  the  price  of  coffee  stays 
up,  he  may  come  to  be  a bishop  by  the  time  his  ton- 
sure  has  spread  all  over  his  noddle  and  his  back  is 
bent  double. 

“ But  come  inside  ! Here  I am,  keeping  you  stand- 
ing all  this  time,  talking  your  head  off;  but  then,  you 
see,  there  are  not  many  come  this  way  and  I am  as 
bad  as  his  Reverence  to  enjoy  a crack  with  them.” 

Hardly  understanding  the  cordiality  of  his  welcome, 
Horacio  followed  the  man,  whom  he  rightly  assumed 
to  be  the  Administrator— or  Manager — of  the  fazenda, 
into  an  inner  room,  where  he  pointed  out  to  him  a 
small  iron  bed  and  toilet  articles,  and  bade  him  make 
himself  at  home,  as  dinner  would  soon  be  ready. 

At  the  table  he  was  presented  to  the  priest,  a jov- 


142 


Horacio 


ial-looking  old  man,  portly  and  blear-eyed,  somewhat 
broken  with  age,  but  full  of  life  and  interest  in  the 
things  of  life.  The  Administrator’s  wife  and  three 
young  girls,  his  daughters,  made  up  the  number  of 
those  who  took  their  seats  at  the  table,  and  Horacio 
seemed  to  see  something  familiar  in  the  faces  of  all — 
something  which  he  was  entirely  unable  to  explain. 

“You  c-c-come  from  Sao  P-p-paulo,  young  man?” 
mumbled  Father  Malachias,  with  a half  stutter,  pe- 
culiar to  him. 

“ Yes,  Senhor  Padre,”  replied  Horacio,  dreading  the 
next  question  ; for  he  was  not  at  all  sure  that  even 
the  sacred  privileges  of  hospitality  were  sufficient  to 
assure  him  of  respect,  were  his  business  to  be  known. 

“ Y-y-you  mushed-mushed-must  have  seen  me  there 
some  t-t-time,  young  man,  b-b-but-but  I d-d-don’t  re- 
member you,”  went  on  the  old  gentleman. 

“ I remember  you  very  well,  Senhor  Padre.  I used 
to  belong  to  the  Batahao  de  Nossa  Senhora  do  Car- 
mo,  in  barracks  at  Sao  Paulo  for  two  years,  and  I 
have  seen  you  many  times  in  the  Church  of  the  See. 
I have  also  seen  you  many  times  on  the  street  but, 
of  course,  you  would  not  remember  me,”  and  Horac- 
io laughed  at  the  thought  of  it. 

“ No,  no.  Just  so, "but  my  m-m-memory  is  pretty 
good,  isn’t  it,  Zacharias  ? ” 

“ Splendid  ! ” assented  the  Administrator,  laughing, 
“but  I’ll  wager  you  ten  milreis,  Senhor  Padre,  that 
you  can’t  remember  a thing  that  you  never  knew.” 

The  old  man  chuckled.  “ I c-c-can  remember  a 
whole  lot  of  th-th-things  that  you  n-n-never  knew  1 


The  Colporteur 


143 


knew,  at  any  rate,”  and  he  looked  sharply  at  his  em- 
ploye, who  blushed  without  exactly  knowing  why. 

“ M-malachias  and  Zacharias  ! Zacharias  and  M-mal- 
achias ! It’s  easy  enough  to  m-make  p-p-poetry  out 
in  the  roga.  I always  had  a t-t-turn  for  the  arts, — 
Zacharias,  you  knew  that  ? ” 

“Yes,  your  Reverence,  to  be  sure!  Your  Rever- 
ence could  paint  a portrait  of  yourself  so  realistic 
that  all  the  women-folks  about  the  house  were  con- 
tinually dropping  down  upon  their  knees  to  get  its 
blessing.” 

The  priest  looked  hard  at  his  old  retainer  to  see  if 
he  might  detect  the  least  sign  of  insincerity  in  his 
face,  but  Zacharias  was  as  solemn  as  a tombstone. 

“ Where  is  that  p-picture  I p-painted  when  I was  a 
lad,  Zacharias?  It  used  to  hang  in  the  sala.” 

“ It  is  there  now,  Senhor  Padre, — you  can  see  it 
after  dinner.” 

“Young  man,”  resumed  the  priest,  after  mumbling 
his  food  in  silence  for  a few  moments,  “are  you  an 
engineer?”  and  then,  without  waiting  for  a reply,  he 
went  on,  “ because  I have  a very  important  coal  mine 
here,  on  the  fazenda.  I discovered  it  myself.” 

“ I am  afraid,  Senhor  Padre,  that  you  must  be  mis- 
taken about  the  mine,”  interrupted  Sor  Zacharias,  “ I 
have  hunted  everywhere,  since  you  were  here  the 
last  time,  and  I can’t  find  a trace  of  it.” 

“ Mif-mif-mistaken,  am  I ? ” said  the  old  man,  testily. 
“ Lots  you  know  about  it ! You  always  want  to  make 
an  issue  with  me  on  scientific  questions  — you,  who 
are  a person  of  no  education  whatever.” 


144 


Horacio 


“That  is  true,  Senhor  Padre,  but  this  time  I think 
you  are  mistaken.” 

“ Of  course  ! Just  so  ! That  is  the  way  every  time. 
There  was  that  hole  I had  you  dig — as  you  very  well 
know — where  the  kerosene  ran  in  on  the  water  that 
gathered.  Legitimate  kerosene,  young  man,”  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  Horacio  as  if  in  disgust  and  im- 
patience at  Zacharias’  incredulity.  “ Pure  and  legiti- 
mate kerosene,  young  man  ! You  are  an  engineer, 
you  said  ? — no  ? —oh,  you  are  not  an  engineer,  well, 
my  nephew  is  an  engineer, — graduated  at  the  Poly- 
technic at  Rio  — and  he  says  that  wherever  there  is 
kerosene,  there  you  are  sure  to  find  coal.  So,  I have 
a very  important  coal-mine,  somewhere  on  the  prop- 
erty.” 

The  Administrator  grunted,  dubiously,  and  then 
made  haste  to  press  upon  the  priest  a favorite  sweet, 
as  the  old  man  turned  on  him  angrily.  Padre  Mala- 
ccas took  the  “doce”,  but  resumed  the  argument 
with  an  immediate  demand  to  know  why  his  state- 
ment should  be  doubted. 

“Well,  for  just  this  reason,  Senhor  Padre,  — there 
was  one  of  those  fellows  here  the  other  day  that  be- 
long to  the  State  Bureau  of  what-do-you-call-’ems — 
Jellogists  ? — Jollogists,  eh  ? ” 

“ Geologists  ? ” suggested  Horacio. 

“ Yes,  that’s  it  ! — jollogists.  Well,  he  said  that  the 
kerosene  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  coal : that  idea 
is  all  played  out.  So  I took  him  down  to  the  hole 
there  behind  the  house  and  showed  him  that  shiny 
scum  on  the  water,  and  he  said  it  was  nothing  but 


The  Colporteur  145 


iron-rust  and  that  I could  find  it  anywhere  in  this 
State.  Sure  enough,  I’ve  been  looking  out  for  it  ev- 
er since  and  I see  it  everywhere.  I wouldn’t  give 
that  for  your  old  coal-mine,”  and  he  snapped  his  fin- 
gers contemptuously. 

Father  Malachias  choked  to  get  out  what  he  had 
to  say  in  reply,  but  finally  gave  it  up  and  accepted 
a cup  of  coffee.  “I’ve  g-g-got  a m-m-marble  mine, 
anyway,”  he  muttered  sulkily  to  himself,  as  the  coffee 
ran  down  his  trembling  chin.  “ I know  I have  a 
m-m-marble  mine,  for  this  hill  b-b-back  here  on  my 
p-p-place  b-belongs  to  the  same  system  of  hills  as....” 

“ Stick  to  coffee,  Father  Malachias  ! Stick  to  cof- 
fee ! ” cried  Sor  Zacharias,  cheerfully,  “ the  crop  is  ex- 
tra good  this  year.” 

The  old  man  was  easily  led  to  drop  the  subject  of 
his  mines  and  take  up  that  of  his  beloved  coffee- 
trees,  and  to  this  he  stuck  until  they  left  the  room 
and  went  to  the  sala. 

Here  the  old  man  was  again  reminded  of  his  work 
of  art  and  took  up  a position  before  the  huge  oil- 
painting  of  himself  as  a young  man,  which  he  had 
made  before  a mirror  when  he  was  in  the  flush  of 
his  early  vigor.  Cocking  his  head  languishingly  on  one 
side  and  maintaining  his  heavy  paunch  in  his  clasped 
hands,  he  gazed  idolatrously  at  the  portrait. 

“I  was  a fine-looking  young  m-m-man,  Zacharias,” 
he  said,  pensively,  “ a fine-looking  young  m-m-man 
in  every  respect.  You  remember  me,  Zacharias,  how 
I was  then?  ” 

“ Remember  you,  your  Reverence  ! How  old  were 


146 


Horacio 


you  then  ? ” responded  the  Administrator,  with  a mis- 
chievous grin. 

“ Let  me  see.  I was  thirty,  Zacharias,  and  a fine- 
looking  young  fellow.  You  remember  me  ? ” 

“ How  old  are  you  now,  Senhor  Padre  ? ” enquired 
the  younger  man,  without  replying  directly  to  the 
priest’s  question. 

“How  old  am  I n-n-now?  Well,  I’m  seventy-five" 
seventy-five  years  old  ! ” 

“ Well,  I’m  forty,  Senhor  Padre,  so  that  picture 
was  painted  five  years  before  I was  born  and  I can’t 
remember  exactly  how  you  looked  at  that  time.  Did 
your  Reverence  have  a bad  toothache  when  it  was 
painted  or  what  is  it  that  makes  that  lopsided  bulge 
on  the  jaw  there?  and  one  eye  is  looking  one  way 
and  the  other  is  busy  about  something  else.  They 
must  have  fed  you  badly  too,  for  it  looks  as  ghastly 
as  a corpse.  No,  I can’t  say  that  I think  you  were 
very  good-looking.  I suspect  that  is  where  your  Rev- 
erence got  your  reputation  for  sanctity.” 

The  old  man  smiled  an  indulgent  smile  and  drop- 
ped into  an  easy  chair.  “ Where  is  your  b-b-boy, 
Zacharias  ? Is  he  at  school  still  in  the  same  place  ? ” 

“Yes,  your  Reverence,  he  is  still  at  the  American 
School,  in  the  City.” 

“ The  American  School ! ” exclaimed  Horacio,  in 
great  surprise,  “ then  I must  know  him.  What  is  his 
name  ? ” 

“ His  name  is  Alvaro  Silveiras.  He  is  in  the  upper 
course.” 

“ Oh,  then,  I know  him  very  well.  He  is  a splen- 


The  Colporteur 


147 


did  fellow.” 

The  Administrator’s  face  beamed  with  pleasure  but 
he  answered,  modestly,  “ We  think  a heap  of  him 
here.  So  you  are  from  the  School,  also?  How  is 
the  boy?” 

“ He  is  well....”  Horacio  replied,  but  Father  Mala- 
ccas interrupted  him : “ It  b-b-beats  me  how  these 
P-p-protestants  can  t-teach  a boy  how  to  g-g-get  a- 
head  in  the  world  ! There  is  no  use  a t-t -talking ! 
Ave  Maria ! I wish  our  p-p-people  could  get  onto 
their  t-tricks.  But  you  d-d-don’t  send  your  girl  to 
to  them  ? The  heretics  have  not  g-g-got  a hold  on 
you,  my  d-d-dear  ? ” and  he  turned  to  the  eldest  girl, 
who  sat  silently  in  a corner  of  the  room.  She  laugh- 
ed and  shook  her  head. 

“No,  no!”  her  father  answered,  for  her,  “it’s  a 
bargain  between  the  wife  and  me  : she  goes  to  the 
Sacred  Heart,  but  the  boys  have  to  know  something, 
so  they  go  to  the  American  School,  or  at  least  Alvaro 
goes  now  and  the  other  will  when  he  is  big  enough.” 

“And  what  are  you  d-d-doing  so  far  from  Sao 
P-p-paulo,  young  m-man  ? ” asked  the  priest,  and  Ho- 
racio decided  to  answer  frankly  and  take  the  conse- 
quences, so  he  spoke  out  boldly,  “ I am  selling  Bibles 
and  other  good  books,  during  my  vacation.” 

The  old  man  laughed.  “ Humph  ! ” he  said,  “ I won- 
der what  the  B-b-bishop  would  say,  d-did  he  know  I 
was  entertaining  B-b-bible-sellers  ? Well,  I suppose 
it  is  a b-business  like  any  other,  and,  after  all,  I don’t 
know  what  harm  the  b-b-book  ever  d-d-did  except 
to  set  some  of  us  p-priests  by  the  ears.  Alice,  can’t 


148 


Horacio 


you  g-g-give  us  a little  m-m-music  or  haven’t  the 
Sisters  d-d-done  their  d-duty  by  you  ? ” 

“ Come,  Alice,  jerk  your  repertory,”  said  her  fath- 
er, to  forestall  any  bashfulness,  dragging  the  stool  to 
the  piano  and  pulling  down  her  music  for  her.  “ She 
isn’t  half  bad,”  he  explained,  proudly,  “ when  she 
knows  a thing,  but  when  you  catch  her  on  something 
she  hasn’t  learned,  there’s  more  different  kinds  of 
snarled-up  noise  in  a minute  than  you  could  unravel 
in  a week.” 

Horacio  had  heaved  a long  sigh  of  relief  at  the 
easy  way  in  which  the  old  priest  took  the  knowledge 
of  his  occupation,  and  now  he  leaned  back  comfort- 
ably in  his  chair  and  enjoyed  the  really  excellent  mu- 
sic which  the  young  girl  furnished. 

The  next  morning  he  took  leave  of  them  all  with 
cordial  expressions  of  good-will  on  both  sides. 


*-  t A' 


8 

ALFREDO. 


0 L D E D neatly  in  the  inside  pock- 
et of  his  coat  was  Horacio’s  first 
sermon  ! Whatever  prejudices  the 
other  boys  might  have  against  writ- 
ten addresses,  he  was  determined 
to  confine  himself  to  notes  until 
he  could  learn  to  confine  himself 
to  his  subject  and  not  go  wandering  off  into  a maze 
of  meaningless  words.  In  an  informal  talk  it  seemed 
to  him  that  it  might  be  well  for  a lad  to  speak  with- 
out them,  but,  in  a more  pretentious  address,  he  did 
not  as  vet  feel  like  deserting  them. 

His  first  sermon  was  to  be  preached  at  a little  chap- 
el at  Bella  Vista,  whither  he  had  been  sent  with  a 
letter  to  an  elder  who  dwelt  hard  by.  This  little 
congregation  was  the  most  numerous  and  important 
of  all  the  little  groups  of  believers  in  the  edge  of  the 
great  sertao.  The  minister  at  Len^oes  had  a general 


150 


Horacio 


oversight  of  the  church,  which  comprised  some  forty 
members,  and,  at  rare  intervals,  he  filled  the  pulpit 
on  his  itinerations  through  the  wilderness.  At  other 
times  he  managed  occasionally  to  send  someone  to 
give  them  the  Word,  but  the  chief  portion  of  the 
time  they  must  needs  shift  for  themselves  and  make 
the  neighborhood  prayer- meeting  take  the  place  of 
a regular  service. 

The  bricks  of  the  little  chapel  had  been  moulded 
and  burnt,  and  the  building  itself  had  been  erected 
by  the  church  members’  own  hands,  and  it  was  lo- 
cated near  the  center  of  a little  glade  in  the  forest. 
Only  the  house  of  a small  farmer  who  acted  as  care- 
taker, or  sexton,  stood  near  by,  the  remaining  mem- 
bers of  the  congregation  being  scattered  upon  small 
holdings  lying  near  and  far  in  every  direction. 

Horacio  bore  a letter  from  the  Pastor  to  the  Res- 
ident Elder,  as  has  been  said,  and,  on  Saturday  aft- 
ernoon, found  himself  approaching  the  place.  The 
road  led  up  and  down  across  creeks  and  over  ridges 
and  finally  through  a heavy  bit  of  timber  to  the  col- 
ony of  Sor  Joao  Ribeiro. 

This  group  of  ramshackle,  tumble-down,  thatched 
houses,  piled  together  without  regard  for  the  road 
that  ran  through  it,  with  wallowing  and  squealing 
pigs  and  fluttering  hens  in  animated  confusion,  was 
the  outlier  of  civilization.  Beyond  the  little  colony, 
the  whole  valley  showed  signs  of  cultivation,  although 
it  was  easily  to  be  seen  that  everything  was  new. 

There  was  a lack  of  finish  to  the  fields  and  to  the 
stumps  and  trunks  which  plentifully  bestrewed  them  : 


Alfredo 


151 


there  was  a lack  of  finish  to  the  coffee  trees  that 
grew  among  the  corn  : a lack  of  finish-  to  the  houses, 
to  the  fences  and  even  to  the  pig-pens  and  the  pigs 
themselves : a lack  of  finish  to  the  road,  where  the 
snubby  trunks  and  roots  still  protruded  and  tripped 
the  horses  or  jolted  the  carts : in  short,  worthy  Sor 
Joao  Ribeiro  was  “forming”  his  fazenda  and,  hence, 
money  was  short  although  food  might  be  abundant, 
and  anything  in  the  way  of  luxury  or  style  must 
wait  for  better  times. 

Down  across  a bit  of  meadow,  the  tiled  roof  of  a 
very  unpretentious  plantation-house  showed  itself  a- 
gainst  the  dark-green  of  the  creek-bottom.  Near  by, 
the  thud,  thud,  thud,  at  intervals,  of  an  industrious 
monjolo  alternated  the  splash  of  its  emptying  water. 
A little  farther  on,  down  by  the  creekside,  a combin- 
ed saw  and  grist-mill  showed  the  enterprise  of  the 
owner,  and,  far  beyond,  against  the  uprising,  dark 
line  of  the  forest,  a wee  bit  of  a building,  scarce 
seen  in  the  distance,  would,  upon  closer  inspection, 
prove  to  be  the  district-school ; which,  also,  owed  its 
life  to  the  public  spirit  of  Sor  Joao,  who  was  a mem- 
ber of  the  distant  Municipal  Council. 

As  Horacio  drew  rein  before  the  fazenda-house, 
the  door  emptied  forth  a group  of  men  and  a clear 
voice  called  across  the  dooryard : “ Ah,  colleague ! 
Good  day  ! How  have  you  passed  ? ” 

Surprised  at  the  salutation  and  yet  half  recognizing 
the  owner  of  the  vibrant  voice  as  that  one  of  his 
school-mates  whom  he  would  least  care  to  see,  he 
looked  harder  at  the  group  and  presently  found  his 


152 


Horacio 


suspicions  verified,  as  a tall  lad  of  pleasing  appear- 
ance detached,  himself  from  them  and  sauntered  non- 
chalantly toward  him. 

“ Ah,  Horacio  — an  embrace  ! ” he  murmured,  ere 
Sor  Joao  could  cry,  “ Dismount ! Dismount ! ” 

Horacio  was  obliged  to  return  Alfredo’s  oppress- 
ively warm  and  friendly  embrace  before  he  could 
give  his  hand  to  Sor  Joao  and  fumble  for  his  letter 
of  introduction. 

“ So  this  is  one  of  your  colleagues,  come  to  hear 
you  preach,  I hope,  Sor  Alfredo  ? ” said  the  hospitable 
fazendeiro,  “ here  ! just  give  me  your  horse’s  rein 
and  go  inside.” 

The  hand  which  held  the  letter  of  introduction  let 
it  slip  back  into  his  pocket  and  then  dropped  to  his 
side.  He  glanced  at  Alfredo  with  a puzzled  express- 
ion on  his  face. 

“ Come  inside,”  said  the  latter,  with  a gravely  pat- 
ronizing air,  as  he  drew  his  arm  through  his. 

Horacio  followed  his  companion  wonderingly  and 
was  presented  to  the  group  at  the  door — sons  and 
nephews  of  the  fazendeiro,  a friendly  colporteur  and 
the  district-school  teacher,  who  was  also  an  authority 
in  literature,  science  and  the  arts,  by  virtue  of  his 
once  having  taken  six  lessons  in  Algebra.  Horacio 
piled  his  equipage  in  a corner  and  sat  down  upon  a 
bench. 

“ So  glad  you  came  along,”  remarked  Alfredo,  a- 
miably,  as  he  dropped  into  a place  beside  him.  “Do 
you  know,  I was  feeling  very  lonesome.  They  want 
me  to  preach  for  them  on  Sunday  morning  so  I hope 


Alfredo 


153 


you  will  share  the  pulpit  with  me.” 

Horacio  almost  thought  he  could  hear  the  leaves 
of  the  sermon  in  his  pocket  rustle  with  indignation, 
but  he  was  too  proud  to  make  a contention  for  the 
place.  After  all,  it  was  probably  a misunderstanding 
and  a conflict  of  territory.  Why  should  not  Alfredo 
speak?  He  was  first  on  the  ground — but  was  there 
any  necessity  for  him  to  remain  and  listen?  Yes,  he 
must  remain,  as  the  morrow  was  Sunday.  The  wom- 
en were  already  laying  the  coarse  cloth  when  Sor 
Joao  returned  to  the  house  from  the  stables. 

“You  must  pardon  the  intrusion,  Sor  Joao.”  said 
Horacio,  rising,  and  determined  now  not  to  make  use 
of  his  letter  of  introduction.  “ I very  much  fear  you 
are  crowded.” 

“ Capaz  ! Just  you  make  yourself  to  home.  There’s 
always  room  for  one  more  here.  We  are  right  glad 
to  see  you.  Sit  down  : sit  down  ! We  are  luckier 
than  we  deserve.  The  Reverend  Gentil  wrote  that 
one  of  you  young  men  would  be  along,  but  we  thought 
that  we  should  be  disappointed  until  Sor  Alfredo 
come,  and  now  we  have  you  as  well.  Let  me  see — 
what  is  your  grace  ? ” 

“ Horacio  de  Castro,  your  servant,  sir,”  replied  the 
younger  man. 

“Well,  Sor  Horacio— we  can  have  two  sermons  to- 
morrow. Sor  Alfredo  can  preach  in  the  morning  and 
you  can  preach  in  the  evening.  How  will  that  suit 
you  ? ” 

“That  will  do  very  well,”  replied  Horacio,  grimac- 
ing inwardly. 


154 


Horacio 


“ But  come  and  sit  down ! Dinner  is  on  the  table. 
Come  everybody  and  sit  around  ! ” 

The  young  men  crowded  at  once  to  the  table,  for 
among  the  middle  classes  of  Brazil  the  women  eat  in 
the  kitchen. 

The  head  of  the  house  bowed  his  head  and  mum- 
bled a long  and  nearly  inaudible  blessing.  In  his  lap 
he  held  his  youngest  child,  a little  girl  a year  and  a 
half  old,  who  fed  from  his  plate  and  wiped  her  grease- 
bedaubed  fingers  on  his  beard. 

The  food  was  abundant  and  palatable.  Chicken, 
vegetables  and  eggs,— -with  coffee  and  milk  to  finish. 
In  honor  of  their  guests  all  were  on  their  best  be- 
havior—-as  to  manners — and  Sor  Joao  must  needs  re- 
buke the  pedagogue  for  scraping  his  plate  on  the 
floor  for  the  benefit  of  the  dogs  that  lay  under  the 
table  and  scratched  for  fleas,  because  the  crunching 
of  the  bones  was  annoying  during  polite  discourse. 

“ Take  that  fork  out  of  your  mouth  and  eat  with 
your  knife  like  a Frenchman  ! Who  taught  you  man- 
ners ? ” he  cried  to  his  youngest  son,  “ one  would 
think  you  didn’t  know  anything  just  because  you  live 
in  the  roga.  It’s  terrible  what  disgusting  tricks  some 
people  do  have,”  he  continued,  with  a sigh  of  pity. 
“That  reminds  me  how  I come  to  be  a believer. 
Leastways  that  wa’n’t  all  they  was  to  it,  but  that 
was  what  set  me  a thinkin’.” 

He  stripped  a drum-stick  with  his  strong  teeth  and 
went  on  between  bites : “ ’ Twas  over  to  Campinas, 
where  I used  to  live  then.  There’s  a famous  church 
nearby,  you  know,  — the  Penha,  where  lots  of  folks 


Alfredo 


155 


go  to  get  healed  and  to  gamble,  during  the  season. 
Judging  from  the  number  of  wax  figgers  there  is  a 
hangin’  up  in  the  end  of  the  church,  I should  think 
Our  Lady  would  be  too  busy  with  her  healin’  to  tend 
to  the  gamblin’,  but  it  seems  she  finds  time  for  both. 

“Well,  I was  over  there  one  day,  when  I was  still 
in  darkness— still  in  Rome,  you  know — and  what  do 
you  think  I saw?  Why,  there  was  two  women  come 
in  there,  and  a man  with  ’em — more  shame  to  him  ! 
for  you  might  overlook  it  in  a woman,  as  their  feel- 
in’s  is  more  delicate  and  sensitive,  they  say.” 

He  made  a wry  face  and  a digression  to  see  that 
everybody  had  a full  plate. 

“Well,  one  of  these  women  had  made  some  sort 
of  a vow,  or  else  they  both  had — like  as  not  if  there 
should  be  an  heir  in  the  family,  or  something  of  that 
sort— and  the  two  of  them  got  down  on  their  knees 
at  one  end  of  that  church  and  stuck  out  their  tongues 
and  licked  that  dirty  floor  from  end  to  end  three 
times  — thirty  meters  each  way,  at  least  — leaving  a 
long  wet  streak  behind  ’em,  and  always  careful  to 
work  toward  the  altar  so  as  not  to  hurt  God’s  feel- 
in’s  by  turnin’  their  backs  to  Him.  ‘ If  this  is  piety,’ 
says  I to  myself,  says  I,  ‘ I’m  goin’  to  be  a heathen  ! ’ 
and  I lit  out  of  there  on  the  run  and  the  first  man 
I met  on  the  street  hollered  after  me  and  sold  me  a 
Bible ; and  I think  he  was  a waitin’  there  outside  that 
place  just  to  pick  up  such  backsliders  from  Roman- 
ism as  me.” 

Dinner  being  finished,  the  host  handed  a large, 
heavy  Bible  with  gilt  clasps,  to  Horacio  and  laid  a 


156 


Horacio 


pile  of  little  hymn-books  on  the  table. 

“You  can  read  us  a chapter  and  make  us  a little 
talk  on  it,”  he  suggested. 

Horacio  took  the  book  and  selected  a psalm  at  ran- 
dom, after  which  he  explained  what  he  thought  David 
meant  by  it.  His  audience  seemed  better  satisfied  than 
himself,  and  he  turned  with  relief  to  the  little  hymn- 
book  and  gave  out  a familiar  number.  Here  he  was 
in  his  element,  and  sang  with  such  good-will  and  mel- 
ody that  they  caught  the  spirit  of  the  hymn,  which 
was  entirely  new  to  all,  excepting  Alfredo,  and,  ere 
he  had  reached  the  third  stanza,  not  a single  voice 
was  silent. 

One  song  followed  another  until  a dozen  had  been 
sung,  and  two  hours  had  vanished  like  an  instant; 
then  he  called  on  Alfredo  to  offer  prayer. 

A moment  later  steaming  pots  of  coffee,  boiled  with 
milk,  and  platters  piled  high  with  crisp  fried-mush, 
sprinkled  with  brown  sugar,  were  set  on  the  table 
and  suffered  a terrible  onslaught,  after  which  all  dis- 
persed. 

In  the  room  -off  the  sala  seven  narrow  beds  were 
standing  and  it  was  here  that  space  had  been  made 
for  Horacio.  On  each  bed  were  one  or  two  hens, 
and  these  were  hustled,  cackling  and  angry,  out  of 
the  window,  protesting  in  vain  against  the  filling  of 
all  of  the  beds  with  nothing  but  human  beings,  and 
jumping  instantly  to  the  sill  again  in  a further  attempt 
to  dislodge  the  intruders,  which,  although  earnest 
and  fearless,  was  entirely  ineffective,  for  their  enemies 
piled  indignities  upon  them  by  snapping  towels  in 


Alfredo 


157 


their  faces(!),  and  silence  soon  reigned  in  all  the 
house. 

The  next  morning,  after  coffee,  family-worship  was 
held,  without  remarks  on  the  Scripture-reading,  and 
afterwards  breakfast  was  served,  earlier  than  usual, 
in  order  that  all  might  prepare  for  their  five-mile 
walk  to  the  chapel,  for  not  a wheel  nor  a hoof  might 
stir  on  all  Sor  Joao’s  place  on  the  Lord’s  day. 

Horacio  thrust  his  precious  sermon  into  his  pocket 
and  set  off  down  the  dusty  road  with  the  others,  and, 
in  the  course  of  an  hour  and  a half,  all  of  them  were 
come  to  the  modest  little  building  where  the  people 
worshipped. 

At  Alfredo’s  earnest  instance  the  young  man  took 
his  place  with  him  in  the  pulpit,  although  he  rather 
resented  his  companion’s  ministerial,  long,  black  coat, 
which  he  considered  premature  and  out  of  place. 

All  the  boys  bought  Prince  Alberts  when  they  first 
entered  the  preparatory — whether  they  could  afford 
it  or  not— and  cultivated  narrow,  white  ties.  Horacio 
could  not  do  it  for  two  reasons — because  he  did  not 
have  the  money  and  because  he  wished  to  maintain 
his  self-respect.  Alfredo  was  two  years  below  him 
at  school  and  had  not  even  been  instructed  to  under- 
take any  practice-preaching,  so  far  as  he  was  aware, 
but  his  home  was  not  far  away  and  he  had  evidently 
borrowed  a horse  and  set  out  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility, without  knowing  that  someone  had  been  spec- 
ially sent  to  do  the  work.  Almost  any  other  Sunday 
there  would  have  been  no  one  in  the  way. 

While  these  thoughts,  scarcely  ministerial,  were 


158 


Horacio 


flitting  through  his  mind,  his  companion  suddenly  in- 
terrupted them  by  leaning  over  and  asking  him  to 
make  the  long  prayer,  when  the  time  should  arrive. 
Horacio  nodded,  then  remembered  his  dry  and  dusty 
throat  and,  beckoning  the  caretaker,  or  sexton,  ask- 
ed him  to  bring  him  a glass  of  water.  To  his  dismay, 
the  water  came  in  a long-spouted,  tin  coffee-pot,  or 
“bule”,  with  no  cup  or  tumbler.  He  looked  at  it  for 
an  instant,  then  boldly  put  the  top  to  his  lips,  and, 
having  satisfied  his  thirst,  passed  it  to  his  compan- 
ion. Alfredo  gazed  at  it  doubtfully,  as  he  had  done, 
then  put  the  long  spout  to  his  mouth  and  gravely 
tipped  it  up. 

It  was  now  time  to  begin  the  service,  and,  a goat 
having  been  dislodged  from  its  position  on  the  stool, 
the  wheezy  little  organ,  much  out  of  repair,  was  per- 
suaded to  lead  the  music,  as  well  as  its  quavering 
notes  would  respond  to  the  keys.  Presently  Alfredo 
arose  to  deliver  his  address.  Horacio  could  see  that 
he  had  no  notes  and  that  all  his  fine  self-assurance 
had  faded  away,  leaving  him  in  a sad  state  of  trep- 
idation. 

“ My  dear  hearers  : ” he  began,  and  jerked  his  hand 
loosely  into  a quick  gesture — recovering  it  again  be- 
fore it  was  fully  extended,  as  though  he  had  sudden- 
ly changed  his  mind  about  letting  it  go.  “My  dear 
hearers  : I wish  to  invite  your  attention  to  the  first 
verse  of  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  the  Gospel  accord- 
ing to  Saint  Luke, — ‘Men  ought  always  to  pray  and 
not  to  faint.’ 

“ I will  now  give  you  a striking  instance  of  the 


Alfredo 


159 


power  of  prayer.  Jonah,  my  dear  hearers,” — the 
loose-jointed  arm  jerked  in  irrelevant  gesture,  and  con- 
tinued to  do  so  at  singularly  inappropriate  intervals, 
throughout  the  discourse.  “Jonah,  my  dear  hearers  ! 
Jonah  was  a man  that  was  a prophet ! The  Lord 
told  Jonah  to  go  to  Nineveh,  that  great  and  wicked 
city,  and  preach  repentance  to  the  inhabitants.  But 
Jonah  was  afraid  and  fled  from  the  face  of  the  Lord ! 
He  took  a steamboat,  my  dear  hearers,  and  went  out 
upon  the  ocean,  but  there  came  a great  storm,  my 
dear  hearers,” — gasp  and  a long  breath — “my  dear 
hearers  ! A great  storm  came  ! The  winds  blew  and 
the  floods  came  and  beat  upon  that  house — steam- 
boat, I mean  ! — and  the  great  waves  came  up  against 
it.  It  thundered  and  lightened  and  the  steamboat 
pitched  about  until  they  all  thought  they  would  be 
drowned.  Then  they  fell  upon  their  knees  and  called 
upon  their  gods  and  there  wasn’t  anyone  to  steer 
the  boat,  so  Jonah  cried  out  that  he  had  sinned  a- 
gainst  his  God,  and  it  was  all  his  fault,  and  so  they 
pitched  him  overboard,  my  dear  hearers,  into  the 
angry  waves. 

“ But  a great  fish  came,  my  dear  hearers,  and  im- 
mediately swallowed  Jonah,  and  after  three  days  and 
three  nights  it  vomited  him  up  on  the  beach  in  front 
of  the  City  of  Nineveh,  my  dear  hearers.  Then  Jo- 
nah went  and  preached  to  the  people  and  they  all 
repented,  my  dear  hearers  ! That  great  and  wicked 
city  of  twenty-five  thousand  inhabitants  all  repented 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes  ! ! 

“ But  Jonah  was  angry,  my  dear  hearers,  so  he 


160 


Horacio 


went  up  on  the  hill,  where  the  sun  was  very  hot, 
and  he  prayed  to  God  to  slay  him,  but  God  sent  him 
a gourd-tree  which  grew  over  him,  so  that  the  sun 
would  not  bother  him.  So  here  you  see  this  striking 
answer  to  prayer,  my  dear  hearers,  and  then  an  an- 
imal came  and  gnawed  the  tree  and  it  died. 

“Here  is  another  striking  answer  to  prayer,  my 
dear  hearers.  When  Christ  was  on  the  mountain  in 
the  garden,  they  came  against  Him  with  shot-guns 
to  take  Him,  and  they  took  Him  and  delivered  Him 
up  and  crucified  Him.  So  He  prayed,  ‘ Father,  for- 
give them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.’ 

“ All  this  teaches  us,  my  dear  hearers,  that  we 
ought  always  to  pray  and  not  to  faint. 

“ Let  us  sing  hymn  number  one  hundred  and  twen- 
ty-seven. Hymn  number  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
seven — the  first  three  stanzas  ! ” 

The  weather  threatened  rain  so  ominously  that  they 
all  set  out  immediately  after  the  service  to  return  to 
the  fazenda,  as  it  seemed  injudicious  to  attempt  to 
wait  and  hold  an  evening  service. 

At  the  cross-roads  they  stopped  for  a moment  to 
await  a stranger  who  signalled  to  them  from  a dis- 
tance. A large  iron  cross  stood  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways,  and,  as  Horacio  looked  at  it,  and  wondered  to 
see  such  a substantial  emblem,  Sor  Joao  explained : 

“There  used  to  be  a wooden  cross  there,  but  my 
neighbor  over  here,  when  he  got  religion,  couldn’t 
bear  to  see  no  such  Roman  fixin’s  here,  so  he  just 
come  over  and  chopped  it  down — ‘ the  groves  and 
the  high-places’,  you  know.  Sor  Elias,  what  put  it  up 


Alfredo 


161 


there,  he  didn’t  know  who  it  was  that  done  it,  so  he 
set  up  another  one  and  kep’  an  eye  on  it,  and  then 
my  neighbor  he  come  over  again  and  chopped  the 
other  one  down  and  burnt  it,  but  Sor  Elias  he  knew 
who  it  was  that  done  it  this  time  and  he  sent  in  to 
town  and  got  this  iron  one,  and  then  he  sent  word 
to  my  neighbor  to  just  leave  it  strictly  alone  or  he’d 
fill  him  full  of  buckshot.  So  my  neighbor  he  thought 
he  had  gone  as  fur  as  duty  called  him,” — a chuckle 
from  the  narrator  gave  all  necessary  comment  on  his 
neighbor’s  valor— “so  he  let  it  alone  thereafter. 

“ For  my  part,  I don’t  believe  as  how  we  have  any 
call  to  do  no  such  violent  acts  as  that.  The  cross 
aint  to  blame  for  nothin’ ! It’s  just  the  misuse  of  it, 
I take  it.  What  do  you  think  about  it,  Sor  Alfredo  ? ” 

“ I think  you  are  quite  right,”  replied  Alfredo,  puff- 
ing himself. 

“ You  see  those  peanut-shucks  there  in  the  road,” 
continued  Sor  Joao,  “ that  just  shows  how  these  Ro- 
manists mix  things  up.  There’s  that  same  fellow, 
Sor  Elias,  what  put  up  that  cross  there,  has  gone 
and  strewed  them  shucks  at  the  cross-roads  so  that 
all  the  people  that  goes  by  on  both  roads  will  tread 
on  them  and  make  his  crops  larger,  and,  if  that  fails, 
why  mebbe  the  cross  will  help  him  out.  But  here’s— 
why  blest  if  it  aint  Emilio ! Mornin’  Emilio ! How 
have  you  passed  ? ” 

“ Morning ! ” replied  the  newcomer,  a brother-in- 
law  of  Sor  Joao,  “how  have  you  passed?” 

He  shook  hands  and  embraced  and  was  presented 
to  the  students.  Together  they  went  on  toward  the 


162 


Horacio 


sitio  and  reached  it  just  as  the  clouds  began  to  pour 
down  a heavy  rain. 

Sor  Emilio,  like  the  young  man  with  whom  we 
have  already  made  acquaintance,  was  a district-school 
teacher,  and  had  walked  over  from  his  distant  field 
of  labor  to  attend  church,  but  had  been  delayed  upon 
the  way. 

After  a lunch  of  coffee  and  fried-mush,  family-wor- 
ship was  again  held  and  then  one  and  another  called 
for  a favorite  hymn.  Thus  the  hours  were  passed 
until  the  added  darkness,  due  to  the  declining  sun, 
warned  them  that  the  table  must  be  laid  for  dinner, 
and  so  they  cleared  away  their  books  from  it  that 
the  women  might  spread  the  cloth. 

Sor  Emilio’s  voice,  perhaps,  aided  in  doing  away 
with  any  lingering  reluctance  to  bring  the  sacred  con- 
cert to  a close.  Sor  Emilio  was  very  fond  of  sing- 
ing and  very  proud  of  his  voice,  and  it  was  some- 
thing of  which  to  be  proud,  indeed  ! He  handled  the 
four  principal  parts  with  equal  ability,  simultaneously 
and  intermittently.  Keys  were,  to  his  mind,  proper- 
ly employed  in  opening  doors  and  drawers,  but  in 
music  they  had  but  little  place.  He  fluted  and  flounc- 
ed and  trimmed  the  tunes  with  ribbons  and  plumes, 
and  his  voice  in  any  part  was  penetrative  and  preva- 
lent. Only  Horacio’s  correct  ear  and  smooth,  strong 
voice  kept  the  tunes  upon  their  feet— with  the  aid  of 
their  staves — and  even  then  they  halted  somewhat. 
He  welcomed  the  diversion  and  gladly  laid  down  his 
book.  After  dinner  family-prayers  came  again  and 
the  evening  passed  as  before,  with  discussion  and 


Alfredo 


163 


singing. 

The  next  day  was  too  stormy  for  work  or  for  trav- 
elling and  about  nine  o’clock,  as  they  were  gathered 
in  the  front  of  the  house,  a horseman  splashed  through 
the  mud  and  rain,  slipping  and  sliding,  as  though  the 
animal  which  he  bestrode  would  fain  exhibit  his  terp- 
sichorean  proficiency  and  accomplishments — slide  upon 
slide,  stagger  upon  stagger,  here  a leg  and  there  a 
leg  and  hard  to  say  where  the  next  would  be  and 
whether  he  could  bring  himself  back  to  the  vertical 
again. 

The  rider  paid  no  manner  of  attention  to  his  erratic 
progress  but  swayed  his  body  in  unconscious  accord 
with  the  vagaries  of  his  march,  for  a single-footing 
horse  on  a stretch  of  wet  clay  travels  like  a light- 
headed caboclo  who  has  lingered  too  long  at  the  ca- 
chaQa. 

In  short,  if  one  will  ride  on  clay,  with  weeping 
skies  o’erhead,  let  him  put  spurs  to  his  steed  and  re- 
gard not  the  manner  of  his  going  nor  that  adage 
which  would  persuade  him  that  the  more  haste  the 
less  speed,  for  mathematics  will  not  save  him. 

The  messenger  drew  rein  and  slid  the  last  half  doz- 
en meters  of  his  journey  down  to  the  door  where 
Sor  Joao  stood  watching  him. 

“ Dismount ! ” he  cried,  “ dismount  and  come  inside  ! 
It’s  deep  to  wade  and  shallow  to  swim  this  morning.” 

He  gave  his  hand  to  the  horseman,  who  leaned 
from  the  saddle  to  grasp  it  but  would  not  dismount. 

Sor  Joao  stepped  back  again  into  his  slippers  and 
the  protection  of  the  doorway,  which  he  had  left  to 


164 


Horacio 


salute  the  stranger,  for  the  drip  of  the  eaves  had 
caught  his  bald  pate  as  he  stepped  out  into  the  mud 
in  his  bare  feet.  The  messenger  was  a lad  from  Sor 
Samuel’s,  two  leagues  back  in  the  forest. 

“ I cannot  stop,”  said  the  young  man,  hastily  and 
with  a grave  face,  as  Sor  Joao  urged  him  to  dis- 
mount, “ Sor  Samuel’s  woman  has  gone  home.  She 
passed  away  yesterday  and  must  be  buried  to-day, 
for  she  won’t  keep.  We  heard  that  there  were  ser- 
vices yesterday  and  I came  to  see  if  the  Reverend 
Gentil  would  go  to  the  grave.  Is  he  still  here  ? I 
must  go  on  and  let  Manoel  know,  that  he  may  make 
the  grave.  They  will  be  here  with  the  deceased  in 
about  two  hours.  They  started  when  I did.” 

“Ah,  I grieve  to  learn  of  our  brother’s  loss.  But 
the  Reverend  Gentil  is  not  here  to-day.  He  sent  a 
young  man  from  the  Seminary.  Perhaps  the  young 
man  will  go.  Sor  Alfredo ! You  will  go  to  the 
grave — is  it  not  so  ? ” 

The  young  man  arose  and  came  forward.  “ Really, 
you  must  excuse  me,”  he  said,  with  a slight  shrug 
of  his  shoulders,  “ I have  not  the  book  of  services.” 

“ Don’t  let  that  trouble  you,”  answered  his  host. 

“ I have  the  book  here.  All  you  need  to  do  is  to 
read  the  service,  make  the  prayer  and  give  out  a 
hymn.  I could  do  it  myself  but  the  good  Lord  didn't 
cut  me  out  for  speechifyin’.” 

Alfredo  gazed  out  into  the  storm.  The  wind  blew 
the  rain  in  sheets  and  the  water  skurried  down  the 
road  and  over  every  slope  in  torrents. 

“ Really,  I think  the  service  might  be  dispensed 


Alfredo 


165 


with  on  a day  like  this.  Where  is  the  cemetery  ? ” 

“ ’ Tis  a bit  further  on — about  two  kilometers  down 
the  lower  road.  The  funeral  will  pass  us  here  on 
the  other  side  of  the  corrego,  along  the  foothill  road. 
You  can  see  them  cornin’  when  they  pass  the  turn 
up  there,  a quarter  of  an  hour  away,  and  cross  the 
bridge  and  join  them  down  below.” 

“But  will  they  come  a day  like  this?  How  far  is 
it  to  the  house  where  the  woman  died  ? ” 

“Oh,  two  leagues  or  thereabouts.  Yes,  they  will 
come.  By  to-morrow  she  would  be  stinkin’  and  this 
rain  may  keep  up  until  then — who  knows  ? They 
cannot  wait  on  the  storm.” 

Alfredo  fidgetted  from  one  foot  to  the  other.  “ I am 
not  feeling  very  well  this  morning,”  he  murmured, 
“ my  throat — huh  ! huh  ! — ” fetching  a cough,  “ has 
been  bothering  me  for  some  time.”  He  coughed  a- 
gain,  once  or  twice,  in  demonstration.  “ Let  them  do 
as  they  would  have  done  had  we  not  been  here.” 

“ Scr  Joao  looked  toward  Horacio.  “ And  how  is 
it  with  you  ? Have  you  a cold  also  ? ” 

“ I will  go  if  you  wish,”  he  replied,  disregarding 
the  latter  part  of  the  query.  “ Please  let  me  have 
the  book  so  that  I may  glance  over  the  service.” 

Sor  Joao  went  to  find  the  little  volume  and  the 
messenger  dashed  off  through  the  mud,  leaving  the 
news  of  the  woman's  death  with  the  friends  and 
neighbors  wherever  he  passed. 

“ Have  you  a Protestant  cemetery  nigh  at  hand  ? ” 
Horacio  asked,  as  he  took  the  little  book  from  Sor 
Joao. 


166 


Horacio 


“No,  it  is  not  a Protestant  cemetery,  exactly.  It 
did  belong  to  Rome  and  was  consecrated  ground, 
but  after  the  Empire  passed  away,  the  Municipality 
took  it  and  made  it  free  to  all,  only,  to  avoid  trouble, 
we  take  one  side  and  our  neighbors  who  still  belong 
to  Rome,  take  the  other.”  Sor  Joao  commenced  to 
chuckle  and  there  was  a droll  twinkle  in  his  eye  as 
some  humorous  recollection  came  to  his  mind. 

“ Sor  Elias  come  by  here  the  other  day,”  he  said, 
at  last,  “ and  stopped  off  to  bargain  for  a horse  I 
have,  which  he  wanted  to  buy.  I disremember  what 
started  it— ah  yes,  that  was  it ! We  was  a talkin’  of 
the  tatus  that  got  into  the  maize  and  destroyed  a tre- 
mendous lot,  burrowin’  and  stealin’. 

“ ‘ Hum ! ’ says  he,  ‘ I see  they’re  a burrowin’  away, 
up  in  the  graveyard,’  says  he. 

“ ‘Yes,’  says  I,  ‘I  noticed  of  it.’ 

“ ‘ No  doubt,’  says  he,  ‘ but  did  you  notice  that 
they’re  a burrowin’  altogether  to  get  at  the  Protes- 
tants, while  they  leave  our  people  in  peace  ? ’ says  he. 

“ ‘ No,’  says  I,  ‘ I took  no  notice  of  it.’ 

“ ‘ Of  course  not,’  says  he,  with  a grin,  ‘ well,  it’s 
Gospel  truth ! How  do  you  account  for  it  that  they 
should  go  over  to  your  side  and  not  come  to  ours  ? 
I take  it  they  can’t  bear  to  see  a heretic  corpse  a ly- 
in’ in  good  soil  what’s  been  blessed  and  sprinkled  by 
the  padre,  so  they’ve  set  to  diggin’  of  ’em  up  to  get 
’em  out  of  there,’  says  he,  and  laughs  as  though  he 
had  me  there. 

“ ‘ Pooh  ! ’ says  I,  for  he  spoke  first,  and  second- 
hand is  best  in  an  argyrnent  if  it  isn’t  in  clothes,  ‘ I 


Alfredo 


167 


know  what  the  tatus  are  after,’  says  I.  ‘ They  knew 
the’  wa’n’t  no  hope  for  you  folks  when  the  resur- 
rection come,  so  they  just  set  to  to  open  up  a way 
to  make  it  easy  for  our  folks  to  come  forth,  and 
burrowed  down  in  our  graves  and  not  in  yours.’ 

“ He  hadn’t  nothin’  to  say  to  that,  so  I thought  I’d 
clinch  the  nail  in  him  before  he  come  up  with  some- 
thing new,  and  so  I just  asked  him  why  they  buried 
those  two  lepers  outside  the  graveyard-wall.  They 
was  good  Romanists,  both  of  ’em,  but  they  wouldn’t 
give  ’em  a place  inside-— he,  he ! He  got  red  in  the 
face  and  he  says,  says  he,  ‘ Why,  it’s  ketchin’,  of 
course  ! ’ but  I laughed  so  hard  he  grabbed  his  hat 
and  rode  away,  and  I fancy  he  aint  found  out  yet 
what  I was  laughin’  at.  But  go  on  with  your  read- 
in’,  for  they’ll  be  along  by-and-by.  I’ll  have  your 
horse  ready,  out  under  the  shed  there.” 

Horacio  set  himself  to  his  studying  and  it  seemed 
but  a short  time  until  his  hostess  thrust  her  head  in 
from  the  kitchen,  the  rear  window  of  which  command- 
ed a view  of  the  road  on  the  other  side  of  the  cor- 
rego. 

“ Here  comes  the  interment ! ” she  called,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

The  young  man  hurried  to  the  window  and  looked 
out.  Around  the  long  slope  of  the  hill  a file  of 
horsemen  made  their  way,  splashing  through  mud 
and  rain.  At  the  head  of  the  procession  two  men, 
with  breeches  rolled  to  their  knees  above  their  bare 
feet  and  legs,  bore  a long  pole  from  which  the  corpse 
was  slung  in  a hammock.  Behind  them  followed  a 


168 


Horacio 


half  dozen  others,  ready  to  take  their  turn  at  the 
pole  when  their  comrades  were  weary.  Thus  they 
had  come  those  two  leagues  and  more  that  morning, 
and  thus  they  would  go  on  until  they  reached  the 
little  graveyard.  The  horses  of  those  who  were  a- 
foot  were  led  by  their  friends  who  were  mounted, 
in  order  that  they  might  not  need  to  walk  back. 

Horacio  threw  his  pala  over  his  shoulders  and 
mounted  his  horse  to  join  them  farther  down  the 
road.  Sor  Joao  and  two  of  the  young  men  accom- 
panied him.  The  others  remained  with  Alfredo. 

The  little  cemetery  was  surrounded  with  a white- 
washed mud  wall,  topped  with  tiles  to  shed  the  rain 
which  would  quickly  destroy  it  if  left  unprotected. 
On  the  farther  side  rude,  weather-beaten  crosses 
marked  the  last  resting-places  of  those  who  had  died 
in  the  bosom  of  Rome,  while  plain  wooden  slabs,  for 
the  most  part,  indicated  the  sepulture  of  the  Protest- 
ants. 

The  place  was  barren  enough  at  its  best,  and,  in 
the  pouring  rain,  presented  but  a disconsolate  and 
forlorn  appearance.  A large  group  of  friends  was  al- 
ready gathered  at  the  grave,  where  one  of  the  neigh- 
bors was  bailing  with  a large  gourd  the  water  which 
steadily  flowed  into  it  from  the  upper  strata  of  the 
surface  soil. 

“ ’ Tis  not  a dry  bed  she  will  have,”  remarked  one 
of  the  bystanders,  as  the  bailer  seemed  to  make  no 
gain  on  the  influx  of  the  yellow  water. 

“ What  matters  it  ? ” replied  another.  “ She  has 
gone  up  higher ! ” 


Alfredo 


169 


£ 

“ True  : true  ! ” assented  the  other  speaker,  “ but 
the  seeming  of  it  is  not  pleasant.  It  is  bad  weather 
to  die  in.” 

“ For  the  pall-bearers  ? ” queried  the  other,  with 
a grim  chuckle. 

The  head  of  the  procession  now  appeared  at  the 
cemetery  gate  and  the  bearers  staggered  and  slipped 
through  it,  digging  their  bare  toes  into  the  clay  and 
struggling  up  the  path,  while  the  mud-bedaubed  ham- 
mock swayed  and  strained  at  the  pole.  Having  ar- 
rived at  the  side  of  the  grave,  they  laid  their  burden 
down  upon  the  ground  and  wiped  their  brows,  stream- 
ing with  rain  and  sweat. 

The  corpse  had  been  wound  about  with  many  cot- 
ton cloths  and  wrappings,  and  was  now  divested  of 
the  hammock  and  stretched  beside  the  muddy  open- 
ing in  the  earth. 

A hasty  consultation  ensued  between  the  family 
and  Sor  Joao,  and  the  latter  presented  Horacio.  An 
umbrella  was  produced  and,  beneath  its  protecting 
shelter,  he  opened  the  little  manual  and  read  the 
service  for  the  dead,  amid  a silence  only  broken  by 
the  splash  of  the  falling  rain  and  the  rush  of  water 
as  the  grave-digger  emptied  his  gourd. 

In  spite  of  the  inauspicious  circumstances,  there 
was  a certain  solemnity  about  the  little  service,  which 
was  concluded  with  the  hymn  : 

“ Jesus  resusitou  ! Certas  as  novas  sao  ! ” 

The  corpse  was  then  gentlv  lowered  into  the  water 
which  still  remained  in  the  grave  in  spite  of  all  the 
efforts  of  the  bailer,  but  it  would  not  sink  to  rest  on 


170 


Horacio 


the  bottom.  It  was  necessary  to  retain  it  in  position 
with  the  shovel  until  the  earth  which  was  thrown  in 
upon  it  weighed  it  down  into  place.  In  a few  mo- 
ments the  excavation  was  closed  and  the  little  com- 
pany of  believers  scattered. 

The  rain  continued  throughout  the  day,  but  toward 
night  the  sky  cleared  and  the  clouds  broke  away, 
giving  hopeful  promise  for  the  morrow. 

As  it  grew  dark  a couple  of  neighbors  passed,  on 
their  way  home  from  a distant  sitio.  The  younger 
of  them  bore  under  his  arm  in  a waterproof  case,  a 
little  guitar,  or  viola  as  it  is  called,  which  immediate- 
ly attracted  Alfredo’s  attention.  With  sparkling  eyes 
he  turned  toward  the  newcomers. 

“Oh,  let  us  have  a modinha  ! You  sing,  don’t 
you  ? ” he  cried. 

The  young  man  shuffled  his  feet  uneasily  and  glanc- 
first  at  Sor  Joao  and  then  at  the  older  man.  “Yes, 
I sing— a little,”  he  admitted,  deprecatingly. 

“Let  us  have  a modinha  then,  won’t  you?  There 
is  nothing  I like  so  much,”  insisted  Alfredo. 

The  young  man  still  hesitated  and  turned  his  in- 
strument over  and  over  in  embarrassment,  without 
taking  it  from  the  case.  His  older  companion  glanc- 
ed at  him  in  some  amusement  and  finally  said,  “ Give 
him  a song,  Celestino,  if  he  wants  it.” 

Celestino  drew  the  instrument  slowly  from  its  case, 
ran  his  hand  across  the  wires  and  hunched  up  close 
to  his  companion.  Striking  a vigorous  prelude,  he 
sang  in  a wierd  falsetto  of  one  So-and-so,  who  had 
a grudge  against  So-and-so. 


Alfredo 


171 


His  companion  caught  up  the  tail-end  of  this  sin- 
ister statement  and  chanted  it  mournfully  after  him, 
so  that  he  had  time  to  repeat  it  and  catch  up  with 
the  other,  and  thus  they  finished  it  together,  with  a 
quaint  harmony ; but  the  fact  was  no  sooner  estab- 
lished than  the  falsetto  announced  quickly  that  So- 
and-so  stuck  his  knife  in  the  armhole  of  his  vest  and 
started  off  to  So-and-so’s  house. 

This  second  statement  was  immediately  established 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  first,  and  then  the  falsetto 
went  on  to  affirm  that  after  So-and-so  had  courteous- 
ly saluted  So-and-so  with  a few  choice  Brazilian  ex- 
pletives, a second  knife  was  produced  by  the  gentle- 
man not  on  horseback,  whereupon  the  cavalier  pro- 
ceeded to  dismount  and  there  was  trouble  and  disas- 
ter, and  the  dying  rythm  of  this  latter  well-establish- 
ed fact  faded  away  into  a strain  whose  mournful  ca- 
dence might  well  have  served  as  the  unfortunate  So- 
and-so’s  requiem. 

Alfredo  was  delighted  and  so  indeed  were  a num- 
ber of  the  others,  but  Sor  Joao  was  not  pleased.  An 
almost  unintelligible  ballad  of  an  African  love-adven- 
ture followed,  and  then  the  travellers  remounted  and 
continued  their  journey,  after  gulping  down  the  in- 
evitable coffee,  but  Sor  Joao  had  disappeared  with 
Sor  Emilio  in  the  rear  of  the  house  to  attend  to  his 
chores. 

“We  don’t  have  profane  music  here  any  more  since 
we  came  out  of  Rome  and  her  vanities,”  explained 
one  of  the  boys. 

“ But  did  you  notice  Sor  Joao’s  feet  a shuffling  to 


172 


Horacio 


the  music  ? ” added  one  of  the  younger  ones,  grinning. 

An  hour  had  passed  after  this  unfortunate  trespass 
of  the  World,  the  Flesh  and  the  Evil  One,  when  the 
sound  of  approaching  hoofs  was  again  heard  and  the 
Reverend  Gentil  rode  up  to  the  door  on  his  sturdy 
little  nag.  With  an  exclamation  of  mingled  pleasure 
and  surprise  Sor  Joao  sprang  forward  and  assisted 
him  to  alight. 

“ Ohe  ! ” he  cried,  “ what  good  fortune  brings  you 
here?  We  shall  have  the  house  full  of  preachers 
to-night ! ” 

‘‘What!  is  Horacio  still  here?  You  will  be  over- 
crowded,” the  Minister  said,  wringing  the  presbyter’s 
hand. 

“ Capaz ! There’s  always  room  for  one  more,  and 
for  a dozen — if  they  bring  the  Word  with  them.” 

“ Thank  you ! Well,  if  you  are  sure  I do  not  in- 
commode ? 1 did  not  expect  to  come  this  way.  The 
bridge  is  down  on  the  Rio  Negro  and  I must  needs 
let  the  believers  on  the  other  side  wait  until  I can 
go  that  way  again.  You  must  let  me  know  if  they 
rebuild  the  bridge  soon : if  not,  I must  go  around  by 
the  Ponte  Alta  next  time.  What ! — you  here,  Al- 
fredo ? ” He  had  been  shaking  hands  around,  and 
exclaimed  at  sight  of  the  tall  student. 

“ Oh,  yes  ; I’m  here.  I thought  I would  come  over 
and  do  what  I could  to  help.” 

“ Ah,  — that  is  good  ! I am  glad  to  see  you.  An 
embrace,  Horacio ! So  you  fleshed  your  maiden 
sword  yesterday?  Sor  Joao, — did  he  do  the  Pres- 
bytery credit  ? ” — this  jokingly. 


Alfredo 


173 


Horacio  flushed  and  felt  ill-at-ease,  but  Alfredo’s 
composure  was  perfect.  Horacio  wondered  why  his 
school-fellow  had  been  nervous  in  the  pulpit.  Sor 
Joao  looked  enquiringly  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
was  about  to  speak,  but  the  Minister  went  on  : 

“ By  the  way,  Alfredo,  how  is  Sor  Reynaldo’s  horse  ? 
He  is  much  distressed  about  it.” 

“ What  horse  ? ” asked  the  young  man,  with  ad- 
mirable poise. 

“ The  horse  you  borrowed  last  week  to  ride  home, 
and  were  to  have  returned  to  him,  but  it  was  too 
sick  to  send  over.  He  showed  me  your  letter  and 
was  anxious  about  the  horse.  The  animal  is  a great 
pet  and  favorite,  it  seems.” 

“ Ah,  yes,  to  be  sure,”  said  Alfredo,  with  a frank 
smile,  “ the  horse  was  doing  nicely  when  I left.  I 
shall  send  him  home  as  soon  as  I return.” 

“Where  has  Sor  Joao  gone?”  suddenly  enquired 
the  Minister,  missing  him. 

“ He  has  just  gone  around  to  the  stable  with  your 
horse,”  said  Henrique,  one  of  the  boys. 

“ Ah,  — I must  have  my  saddle-bags  ! I will  go 
after  them.” 

“ It  is  not  necessary,  Sor  Gentil ! I will  go  if  you 
want,  but  father  will  bring  them  when  he  comes,” 
said  the  son,  but  the  Minister  was  already  through 
the  door  and  halfway  along  the  side  of  the  house. 

When  he  returned  the  table  was  prepared  for  sup- 
per and  had  been  lengthened  by  adding  a couple  of 
boards,  supported  on  boxes.  All  seated  themselves 
and  the  Minister  returned  thanks. 


174 


Horacio 


“ Sor  Joao  tells  me  that  you  did  not  preach  for 
them  on  Sunday,  after  all,”  said  he,  presently,  as  the 
knives  and  forks  began  to  fulfil  their  offices,  and 
looking  at  Horacio,  who  flushed  but  said  nothing. 

“ He  was  to  have  preached  in  the  evening,”  said 
Alfredo,  calmly,  “ but  the  weather  was  unpropitious.” 

“ Sor  Alfredo  preached  in  the  mornin’,”  added  the 
host,  with  a bit  of  pork  between  his  teeth,  which 
partially  obstructed  the  statement.  “He  got  here 
first,  you  know.  Did  you  send  Sor  Horacio,  also  ? ” 

The  Minister  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the 
two  young  men.  Horacio  certainly  seemed  to  be  at 
least  a criminal— if  one  might  judge  from  his  face — 
while  Alfredo  seemed— at  least— a saint.  His  serene 
self-confidence  was  undisturbed. 

“ Did  you  give  my  letter  to  Sor  Joao,  Horacio  ? ” 
the  Minister  enquired,  at  last. 

“ No,  senhor,”  replied  the  student,  unhesitatingly, 
“ I found  that  Alfredo  had  already  arranged  for  the 
morning  service  and  so  I kept  the  letter.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  there  had  been  a mistake  and  I saw  no 
need  to  say  anything.  Sor  Joao  opened  his  house  to 
me  most  hospitably  without  any  letter,”  and  he  smiled 
at  his  host  to  smooth  away  the  awkwardness  of  the 
situation. 

The  Reverend  Gentil  said  nothing  but  looked  vol- 
umes. Presently  he  turned  to  Alfredo  and  remarked, 
indifferently,  “How  like  your  horse  is  to  Sor  Rey- 
naldo’s ! I saw  it  just  now  in  the  stable.” 

“ Yes,  it  is  very  much  like  his,”  replied  the  student, 
with  unwavering  eye,  “I  always  thought  they  look- 


Alfredo 


175 


ed  alike.” 

The  Minister  did  not  pursue  the  subject  further, 
but  a sudden  chill  seemed  to  settle  down  between  Al- 
fredo and  the  rest  of  the  company. 

The  next  day  Horacio  went  on  his  way  and  the 
Minister  took  the  road  in  the  opposite  direction,  but 
Alfredo  borrowed  a gun  from  his  host  and  went  off 
in  the  woods  to  shoot. 

Towards  the  middle  of  that  day  the  colporteur  be- 
gan to  get  well  into  the  edge  of  the  sertao,  or  vir- 
gin forest,  only  broken  in  isolated  spots  by  clearings 
for  coffee-planting.  Here  the  corn  grows  among  the 
charred  ruins  of  the  forest  and  only  the  decay  which 
time  can  bring,  finishes  the  work  which  the  axe  and 
fire  commence. 

In  the  little  square  holes,  roofed  over  with  minia- 
ture log-cabins  of  sticks,  to  protect  them  from  the 
sun,  the  young  coffee-trees  were  thrusting  their  bril- 
liant, waxy-green  leaves  up  through  the  interstices  of 
their  houses,  while  all  the  ground  between,  not  oc- 
cupied by  the  fallen  timber,  was  devoted  to  beans  or 
corn. 

The  great  hoes  fell  heavily  upon  the  ground,  lit- 
tered with  last  year’s  stalks  and  rubbish,  as  men  and 
women  labored  to  prepare  the  ground  for  the  coming 
seed-time  and  harvest.  The  corn  must  battle  with 
the  woods  in  a life-and-death  conflict,  for  plows  were 
unknown  and  hands  could  not  be  spared  to  keep  the 
surface  clean. 

In  the  damp  spots,  where  the  ground  lay  low  by 
the  margins  of  the  countless  streams,  the  little  patch- 


176 


Horacio 


es  of  rice  grew  thick  and  abundant.  In  June  it 
would  be  harvested,  and  men  and  women  laborers, 
with  knife  in  hand,  would  grasp  its  tall  stalks  with 
one  hand,  and  gathering  them  into  bunches  with 
their  fingers,  would  sever  them  from  the  root  with 
the  other,  leaving  only  an  uneven  stubble  behind. 

A great  patch  of  smooth  clay  would  then  be  pre- 
pared and  the  gr.pin  beaten  in  handfuls  to  liberate 
the  fat,  red  kernels  of  rice.  Flails  would  free  it  from 
its  husks  and  then  it  would  be  thrown  high  into  the 
air  for  the  wind  to  bear  the  chaff  away.  All  this  he 
could  see  with  the  eye  of  his  memory  and  imagination. 

From  fazenda  to  fazenda  and  from  sitio  to  sitio  the 
road  now  led  through  the  primaeval  forest.  Often 
he  clutched  at  Bonilo’s  mane  and  lifted  a hand  to 
cast  loose  his  carbine  as  a deer  bounded  across  the 
path,  but  the  carbine  was  long  laid  away.  Bonito 
pricked  his  ears  and  looked  back  at  his  master  en- 
quiringly, to  know  the  cause  of  his  seeming  indiffer- 
ence. A whir  of  wings  and  a brace  of  jacus  flew 
into  the  lofty  branches  of  a jequitiba  from  out  the 
jaboticabeira  where  they  had  been  feeding  and  preen- 
ing. Deep  in  the  forest  he  heard  the  shrill  call  of 
the  inambu,  and  the  macucu  begged  a shot  from  him 
as  she  flaunted  her  fine  figure  only  twenty  paces 
away.  The  instinct  of  the  hunter  knocked  again  and 
again  at  his  heart  and  for  a moment  the  traveller 
thought  not  of  his  High  Calling  but  dreamed  again 
of  the  chase. 

Coming  to  himself  at  last,  as  the  jolting  of  his  sad- 
dle-bags called  his  attention  to  their  need  of  adjust- 


Alfredo 


177 


ment,  he  noticed  that  his  stock  of  books  was  lower 
than  he  had  dared  to  hope,  and,  giving  the  rein  to 
Bonito,  he  spread  his  little  gains  upon  the  pommel 
of  his  saddle — smoothing  and  counting  the  dirty  notes. 

The  metallic  “tank,  tank!”  of  the  araponga,  from 
a neighboring  tree-top,  thrilled  his  heart  with  a note 
of  sadness,  carrying  his  memory  back  to  that  scene 
of  desolation  when  he  had  come  again  to  the  ruins 
of  his  childhood’s  home.  Thoughts  of  those  who  had 
been  so  dear  to  him  filled  his  heart,  and  among  the 
dimly-seen  faces  which  memory  pictured  there,  two 
great  dark  eyes,  framed  in  the  sallow  face  of  a young 
girl,  stood  out  clearer  than  all  the  rest.  Gathering 
up  the  reins  that  lay  loosely  upon  Bonito’s  neck,  he 
touched  him  into  a gallop  to  ride  away  if  he  could 
from  the  oppression  and  the  pain  of  it,  but  the  pound- 
ing saddle-bags  soon  brought  him  into  the  quiet  trav- 
elling pace  which  was  more  agreeable  to  man  and 
beast.. 

Little  by  little  the  road  grew  narrower  and  the 
jungle  encroached  more  and  more  upon  it.  Although 
used  for  ox-carts,  the  traffic  was  not  very  great  and 
the  road  was  sadly  in  need  of  repair.  The  great 
knobbed  tires  of  the  carts,  aided  by  the  flow  of  abun- 
dant surface-water  from  the  frequent  rains,  had  cut  it 
down  in  places  into  enormous  ruts  through  which 
his  horse  could  hardly  squeeze  his  way,  and  it  was 
necessary  at  times  for  him  to  draw  up  his  own  legs 
lest  he  bruise  them  against  the  sides. 

From  the  great  trees  on  either  side,  the  tangled 
cables  of  the  cipos  hung  down  or  writhed  their  great 


178 


Horacio 


coils  in  tangled  masses  about  the  trunks.  Many  of 
the  trees  were  clothed  in  brilliant  blossoms.  High 
above  all  others,  the  great  smooth  shafts  of  the  je- 
quitibas  rivalled  the  corrugated  trunks  of  the  cedars. 
The  spindling  palms  thrust  their  graceful,  plumed  tops 
up  toward  the  sun,  striving  to  come  up  to  the  shoul- 
ders of  their  greater  brethren.  Underneath  all,  the 
dense  thickets  of  taquara  mingled  their  canes  in  in- 
extricable confusion.  A break  in  the  foliage  presag- 
ed a clearing,  and,  presently,  the  young  man  emerg- 
ed from  the  shade  of  the  forest  and  came  in  sight  of 
an  humble  dwelling  in  the  midst  of  a feeble  attempt 
at  cultivation. 

As  he  approached  the  hut,  a swarm  of  little  negroes 
emerged  and  as  quickly  scampered  away,  all  save 
one,  who  put  his  little  hands  together,  bowed  his 
head  and  murmured  : “A  benpao  ! ” then  he  too  turn- 
ed and  fled.  A tall  lank  negress  appeared  at  the 
door. 

“ Good  afternoon  ! ” called  Horacio,  coming  to  a halt. 

“ Good  afternoon,  senhor,”  replied  the  woman,  lan- 
guidly. 

“ Is  there  any  means  of  preparing  me  a little  cof- 
fee ? ” he  enquired. 

“Why  not?”  she  answered.  “Be  pleased  to  dis- 
mount and  enter. 

Horacio  flung  the  reins  upon  the  ground  and  came 
to  the  door. 

“ Be  seated,”  said  the  negress,  hospitably,  dusting 
a black  and  greasy  box  with  her  skirt.  Horacio  no- 
ticed that  her  smiling,  white  teeth  were  all  filed  to  a 


Alfredo 


179 


point — an  African  custom  still  surviving  in  parts  of 
Brazil.  It  gave  her  otherwise  pleasant  face  a some- 
what feline  expression,  but  as  it  could  not  possibly 
influence  her  temper  or  character,  its  effect  was  only 
upon  the  imagination.  Among  the  blacks  it  is  sup- 
posed to  add  greatly  to  the  personal  attractions. 

“The  coffee  will  be  ready  in  a little  moment,”  she 
said,  “ will  you  have  it  with  mixture  ? ” 

“Yes,  thank  you,”  responded  the  young  man,  hast- 
ily consulting  his  stomach. 

The  children,  in  various  stages  of  nudity,  gathered 
with  timid  curiosity  in  the  doorway  which  led  from 
the  living-room  into  the  little  kitchen  behind  it.  Ho- 
ratio tried  to  coax  them  forth  to  shake  hands  with 
him,  but,  like  a covey  of  young  partridges,  they  broke 
and  fled  again  at  his  first  advances. 

“ Que  criangada  ! ” exclaimed  the  mother,  observing 
their  behavior.  “ They  see  but  few  strangers  here,” 
she  explained,  apologetically.  “ Come  here  and  say 
‘ Sao  Christo  ’ to  the  gentleman  ! ” she  called,  marshal- 
ling them  in  again. 

Encouraged  by  his  smile  and  a glimpse  of  his  white 
teeth,  which  are  an  attraction  no  sane  person  can  re- 
sist, the  little  Afro-Brazilians  came  forward  one  by 
one  and,  after  clasping  together  hands  which  Nature 
had  doubly  darkened — once  at  birth  and  diurnally, 
ever  afterwards,  with  the  abundant  soil  about  the 
place — murmured  “ Sao  Christo”,  as  directed,  and  re- 
tired to  a corner  of  the  room. 

“ Would  you  like  to  learn  a song  ? ” suggested  the 
young  man,  hoping  to  break  through  their  reserve. 


180 


Horacio 


“ Now  I shall  say  a line  of  it  and  then  you  can  say 
it,  and  then,  when  we  have  learned  a verse,  I shall 
sing  it.  Now  then  ! Prompto  ! ” 

“ Prompto ! ” echoed  the  larger  ones,  promptly.  Ho- 
racio laughed.  “ That’s  right,”  he  said,  “but  ‘prompto’ 
don’t  belong  to  the  song.  Now  then  ! I shall  begin. 
Here  you  are  : ‘ Vinde  meninos.  Vinde  a Jesus  ! ’ All 
say  it ! ” 

Two  or  three  made  a stumbling  effort.  “Now, 
once  again— all  together  ! ‘ Vinde  meninos.  Vinde  a 
Jesus  ! ’ There,  that  is  better.  ‘ Elle  ganhou-vos 
bengaos  na  cruz.  ’ 

“ ‘ Vinde  meninos.  Vinde  a Jesus  ! 

Elle  ganhou-vos  bengaos  na  cruz. 

That  is  very  good  ! Now  another— 

‘ Os  pequeninos  Elle  conduz, 

Vinde  ao  Salvador  ! ’ ” 

The  children  repeated,  and  the  young  man  resum- 
ed, “ Very  good  ! That  is  the  verse,  and  then  we  sing 
a chorus : 

‘ Que  alegria ! sem  peccado  ou  mal, 

Reunir-nos  todos  a final ! 

Na  santa  patria  celestial, 

Com  nosso  Salvador  ! ’ ” 

A few  moments  of  practice  and  the  little  parrots 
had  the  verse  and  chorus : then  Horacio  sang,  over 
and  over  again,  the  sweet  hymn,  “ Come  to  the  Sav- 
ior, make  no  delay ; here  in  His  Word  He’s  shown 
us  the  way ; here  in  our  midst  He’s  standing  to-day, 
tenderly  saying,  ‘ Come  ! ’ ” 

The  tune  was  easy  and  attractive  and  Horacio  had 


Alfredo 


181 


it  well  fixed  in  the  memory  of  the  older  children  ere 
the  coffee  boiled. 

“ Please  to  excuse,”  said  the  negress,  handing  him 
a gourd  of  steaming  coffee,  “ we  have  no  crockery 
in  which  to  offer  it.” 

“ Better  as  it  is,”  said  the  young  man,  smiling  and 
thinking  of  the  frail  porcelain  at  Donna  Virginia’s, 
which  had  filled  him  with  apprehension. 

“Here  is  the  mixture,”  added  the  woman,  setting 
a gourd  of  farinha  de  milho,  with  an  iron  spoon,  up- 
on the  table. 

A soldier’s  fare  had  accustomed  Horacio  to  anything 
but  high-living,  nevertheless  two  or  three  spoonfuls 
of  this  corn-meal — pounded  in  water,  fermented  and 
dried — were  enough  to  make  him  believe  that  he  was 
no  longer  hungry. 

“ Well,  i must  be  on  my  way,”  he  said,  picking  his 
whip  from  the  dirt-floor  where  it  had  fallen,  “and 
what  do  I owe  you  for  your  kindness  ? ” 

“ Ah,  that  is  nothing ! Do  me  the  favor  to  excuse 
the  insufficiency.” 

“ Qual ! Then  permit  me,  at  least — ” and  he  press- 
ed a nickel  into  the  hand  of  the  eldest  child.  The 
mother  smiled  appreciatively.  He  shook  hands  all  a- 
round ; made  them  sing  the  song  once  more,  and 
rode  off. 


9 

FIRST  SERMON. 


N his  pocket  he  bore  a half  dozen 
letters  to  believers  scattered  here 
and  there  through  the  sertao,  and 
that  night  he  proposed  to  make 
use  of  the  first,  remaining  with  a 
professed  Christian  who  had  al- 
ready been  advised  of  his  approach 
in  order  that  he  might  gather  in  the  neighbors  for 
an  evangelistic  service. 

A long  stretch  of  forest  intervened  between  the 
settler’s  hut  where  he  had  taught  the  hymn  to  the 
children  and  the  place  of  his  destination,  and  Horacio 
wondered  whence  would  be  drawn  his  audience,  in 
a region  so  sparsely  inhabited,  and  in  which  he  had 
passed  so  few  clearings  and  dwellings  ; but,  as  the 
afternoon  drew  on,  he  was  turning  toward  the  Tiete 
again  and,  every  hour  or  so,  each  of  which  marked 
off  a league  of  journeying,  brought  him  to  some  small 


THE 


The  First  Sermon 


183 


fazenda  or  group  of  sitios,  so  that  the  country  seem- 
ed almost  populous  in  comparison  with  that  through 
which  he  had  been  making  his  way.  The  road  im- 
proved also,  for  the  outlet  of  this  district  was  in  the 
direction  of  the  river. 

About  four  o’clock  he  turned  aside  to  the  ruins  of 
what  had  once  been  a rather  fine  house  and,  upon 
announcing  the  purpose  of  his  visit,  was  received  with 
the  warmest  cordiality.  Nothing  was  purchased  from 
him,  but  his  entertainer,  after  serving  coffee,  called 
in  a numerous  family  and  requested  the  young  man 
to  conduct  a short  service  of  prayer,  announcing  him- 
self as  a believer  and  a member  of  the  church.  Ho- 
ratio was  delighted  to  oblige  him  in  this  way,  and, 
after  the  little  service  was  finished,  they  sat  and 
chatted  for  a few  minutes  before  he  went  on  his  way. 

His  host  was  a magnificent  specimen  of  manhood, 
broad-shouldered  and  erect,  with  a splendid,  crisp, 
black  beard  and  a mass  of  jet-black  hair.  His  eyes 
were  bright  and  full  of  intelligence  and  his  every 
movement  governed  by  native  grace.  Eight  boys, 
ranging  in  age  from  six  to  twenty,  were  gathered  a- 
bout  the  room,  taking  an  eager  interest  in  everything 
that  was  said  or  done,  and  Horacio  was  surprised  to 
learn  that  all  of  them  were  sons  of  his  young-look- 
ing host. 

“ Yes,”  said  he,  with  a look  of  fondest  pride,  in 
answer  to  Horacio’s  question,  “ they  are  all  mine  and 
all  of  them  with  good  Scripture  names.  Here  is  one 
of  the  Major  Prophets — I’ll  give  you  three  guesses.” 

Horacio  laughed  and  discovered  in  two  guesses 


184 


Horacio 


that  the  boy  was  called  Jeremias. 

Thus  the  little  impromptu  game  continued  until  he 
had  guessed  them  all  save  one. 

“ This  is  the  son  of  a patriarch,”  said  his  host. 

Three  guesses  were  not  enough  to  determine  the 
identity  of  this  personage  and  so  he  went  on  guess- 
ing, while  his  host  was  giving  him  hints,  and  crow- 
ing over  his  inability  to  name  the  man.  He  had  fi- 
nally learned  that  he  must  be  one  of  the  sons  of  A- 
braham,  Isaac  or  Jacob ; had  commenced  with  the 
grandfather  and,  naming  Isaac  and  Ishmael,  had  fi- 
nally reached  the  last  of  the  sons  of  Jacob — as  he 
supposed. 

At  last  he  protested,  “ I have  named  them  all  now. 
You  must  be  fooling  me.” 

“ No ! ” said  the  proud  father,  laughing,  “you  have 
missed  one  of  them.” 

“Then  it  must  have  been  a son  of  Abraham  by 
Keturah,  and  I confess  I can’t  remember  their  names.” 

“ Abraham  didn’t  have  any  more  sons  than  Isaac 
and  Ishmael,”  asserted  the  host,  firmly. 

“ Oh,  yes,  he  did,”  replied  Horacio,  “ but  I can’t  re- 
member their  names,  so  I shall  have  to  give  up.” 

“ No,  he  had  no  more  sons,”  reiterated  the  man, 
with  an  air  of  profound  conviction. 

“You  will  have  to  have  the  Bible  for  it,  then,”  said 
the  young  colporteur,  laughing,  and  he  reached  for 
the  Book  and  began  to  turn  its  leaves.  “ Here  you 
are  ! ‘ And  Abraham  took  another  wife,  and  her  name 

was  Keturah.  And  she  bare  him  Zimran,  and  Jok- 
shan,  and  Medan,  and  Ishbak  and  Shuah.’  There ! 


The  First  Sermon 


185 


Is  it  one  of  them?” 

The  father  of  many  Biblical  sons,  stared  at  his 
guest  in  ill-concealed  mortification.  He  had  thorough- 
ly enjoyed  patronizing  the  young  man  and  testing  his 
knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  and  now — his  visitor 
had  scored  ! 

“ No ! ” he  said,  somewhat  testily,  “ it  is  none  of 
them,  but  you  have  forgotten  one  of  the  sons  of  Ja- 
cob— Issachar.” 

“ Sure  enough  ! ” assented  the  traveller,  cheerfully, 
and  arose  to  take  his  departure.  His  host’s  good- 
nature returned  instantly : he  thanked  him  cordially 
for  the  visit  and  bade  him  call  again  on  his  return. 
“ My  name  is  Mathathias,”  he  said,  in  parting,  and 
Horacio  shook  hands  with  the  numerous  family  and 
mounted. 

Toward  nightfall  he  came  to  his  destination,  and 
was  welcomed  with  open  arms.  Dropping  wearily 
upon  a bench,  after  saluting  the  various  members  of 
the  family  of  Sor  Rufino,  he  thought  to  rest  for  a few 
moments,  until  something  could  be  prepared  for  him 
to  eat. 

“You  bring  books,  I was  told,”  his  host  at  once 
began.  “The  Reverend  Gentil  wrote  me  that  you 
would  have  some  hymnals.  We  are  sadly  in  need 
of  them  here.” 

Horacio  nodded  and  pulled  his  saddle-bags  toward 
him.  Spreading  his  little  stock  upon  the  table,  he 
selected  the  hymn-books  and  showed  them  to  his 
host.  At  this  moment  the  inevitable  coffee  was  serv- 
ed them.  The  book-sale  went  on  and  with  it  a bit 


186 


Horacio 


of  chat. 

Horacio  was  wearied  of  the  staple  topic  of  coffee ; 
how  it  had  flowered  ; whether  the  flowers  had  “stuck”; 
what  harm  the  frost  of  the  preceding  winter  had 
done  ; who  had  sold  ; what  it  was  bringing  at  Santos ; 
when  would  the  Sorocabana  be  able  to  move  the  ac- 
cumulation, and  how  foreign  countries  could  be  per- 
suaded to  drink  more  and  thus  bring  up  the  price, 
but,  for  the  rest  of  the  journey,  he  was  to  hear  little 
but  religion ; whether  So-and-so  was  orthodox,  and 
why  Some-one-else  did  thusly,  when  he  must  know 
that  it  was  inconsistent. 

“Did  you  stop  at  Sor  Mathathias’,  as  you  come  a- 
long  ? ” asked  Sor  Rufino,  finally,  as  he  selected  three 
of  the  little  hymnals  and  put  them  aside.  “ He  will 
be  here  to-night.” 

“ Where  is  that  ? ” queried  the  colporteur. 

“ Oh,  a bit  back  along  the  road— about  two  hours. 
Let’s  see ! ■—  it  will  be  three  quarters  to  Mario’s  and 
a half  to  Jaime’s,  and  a half  again  to  Mathathias’. 
Two  leagues  that  makes,  lacking  a quarter.  ’ Tis  a 
good  house,  going  to  ruin,  a piece  back  from  the 
road,  on  the  big  creek  where  there  is  a fallen  bridge 
and  one  gives  a turn  about  to  ford  it.” 

“Yes,  I remember  now.  I stopped  there  to  offer 
them  books  and  he  said  he  would  be  along  to-night. 
The  believers  must  be  much  scattered  hereabouts.” 

“Yes,  they  be  a bit  sprinkled,  as  it  were,  but  they 
are  most  all  believers — most  all  the  dwellers  herea- 
bouts. Did  Mathathias  offer  you  coffee  ? ” 

“ Yes,  he  gave  me  coffee,”  replied  Horacio,  with 


The  First  Sermon 


187 


some  surprise. 

“ There,  woman — see  there  ! I maintain  it  and  I 
ostain  it — that  man  hadn't  ought  to  do  that!  But  it 
seems  like  he  wants  everybody  else  to  be  just  like 
himself.  I declare  it  aint  Christian — no,  it  aint ! ” 

“ Maybe  he  don’t  know  how  it  looks  and  what 
harm  he  might  do,”  suggested  his  wife,  charitably, 
as  she  flirted  a bit  of  a dubious-looking  cloth  across 
the  end  of  the  table,  in  preparation  for  serving  Ho- 
ratio's supper. 

“ Capaz ! ” retorted  the  man,  with  a languid  show 
of  contempt.  “ He  knows — no  one  better  ! Aint  it 
been  in  his  fambly  these  three  generations  and  gone 
down  to  the  children  and  to  all  them  they  married 
with  ? And  now  the  Coutinhos  has  it  and  the  Por- 
tugal and  that  girl  of  Ferreira’s.  No— don’t  tell  me 
that  he  don’t  know,  and  I say  as  how  that’s  what 
sets  the  Romanists  against  us.  We’ve  got  to  be  aw- 
ful careful  when  everybody  is  a lookin’  for  some 
loose  end  to  get  a hold  on.” 

“I  do  not  understand.  What  is  it  all  about?”  de- 
manded Horacio,  with  some  curiosity. 

“ Why,  will  you  believe  it  that  that  fellow,  Matha- 
thias — splendid  fellow,  aint  he?  — big  and  strong  and 
fine-lookin’— you  wouldn’t  never  believe  it ! — he’s  a 
morphite.” 

“Oh — a leper?”  said  the  astonished  young  man. 

“ Yes,  a lepered,”  replied  his  host,  easily,  “ he  and 
his  wife  and  all  those  fine  boys  of  hisn,  and  his  sis- 
ters and  his  brothers  and  his  cousins  and  uncles  and 
aunts  and  grandparents,  back  to  who  knows  where. 


188 


Horacio 


Why  that  fambly  was  rich,  young  man  ! They  own- 
ed this  land  here,  and  all  the  land  up  these  waters, 
and  down  to  the  Tiete.  ’ Twas  six  leagues  and  more 
to  ride  across  it  and  who  knows  how  much  to  go  the 
other  way.  But  it  seemed  like  as  if  they  sorter  lost 
their  grip  when  this  thing  come  into  the  fambly  and 
just  let  things  go  to  the  dogs,  selling  it  off  bit  by 
bit  or  trading  it  away,  until  now  they  have  only  that 
old  house — that  was  good  once — and  about  a thou- 
sand acres  of  land  that  they  don’t  do  nothin’  with, 
worth  mentionin’.” 

“ Are  you  sure  it  is  really  leprosy  that  they  have  ?” 
asked  the  young  man,  doubtfully. 

“ Sure  enough  to  swear  to  it,”  replied  his  informant, 
with  cheerful  grimness.  “ Eitah  ! Just  get  Matha- 
thias  to  roll  up  his  pants  legs  ! He’s  a sight ! The 
kids  are  turning  blue  already,  — if  you  look  close. 
Oh,  it’s  sure  enough  ! They  spent  an  enormous  pile 
of  money  a doctorin’,  but  it  wa’n’t  no  good.  Then 
Mathathias,  when  he  seen  it  wouldn’t  do,  just  turned 
hard  and  bitter,  and  now  a queer  streak  is  on  him. 
It  seems  just  as  though  he  was  a wantin’  everybody 
else  to  be  like  him. 

“ He  asks  everybody,  that  haint  no  necessity,  to 
come  in  and  have  a cup  of  coffee,  especially  strangers, 
and  it’s  shake  hands  and  shake  hands  and  more  cof- 
fee, and  shake  hands  again  until  you’d  think  there 
was  no  better  fellow  in  the  Province-State,  I mean. 
I can’t  get  over  callin’  it  ‘ Province’,  you  know ! 

“ I got  at  the  Reverend  Gentil — last  time  he  was 
here — for  to  have  a talk  with  Mathathias,  but,  my  oh  ! 


The  First  Sermon 


189 


— he’s  scared  to  talk  with  him  about  it  for  fear  of 
hurtin’  his  feelin’s  and  drivin’  him  away  from  relig- 
ion. He  goes  there  himself  to  hold  services  and  eat, 
and  even  spent  the  night  there  once.  I’m  a thinkin’ 
the  neighbors  ought  to  do  something,  but  no  one 
likes  to  make  the  first  move.  That’s  where  the  pig’s 
tail  twists ! ” 

“ I shall  speak  to  him  when  I see  him,  if  you  are 
certain  as  to  the  facts,”  said  Horacio,  firmly. 

“ Well,  I don’t  envy  you  your  job,  but  ‘ quern  a- 
conselha  nao  paga  custas’,  (he  who  gives  the  advice 
does  not  pay  the  bills)as  the  sayin’  is.  You  can  ask 
anybody  about  the  facts.  I’m  not  the  only  one  who 
knows  about  it.  I like  Mathathias.  I always  liked 
him,  save  for  that,  and  it  does  seem  as  though  his 
trouble  had  touched  him  here—”  and  he  put  his  fin- 
ger significantly  to  his  forehead. 

The  beans  and  rice  were  now  upon  the  table,  to- 
gether with  a chicken  which  had  been  slain  for  the 
guest.  Horacio  did  full  justice  to  the  repast,  aided  by 
his  host,  who  had  come  late  from  the  roga,  and  had 
not  dined.  The  meal  was  half  over,  when  a clatter 
of  hoofs  was  heard  and  a horseman  paused  at  the  door. 

“ Ah — there  is  Sor  Chico  ! Dismount,  Sor  Chico, 
and  enter!  How  have  you  passed?” 

“Well,  thank  you.  Are  you  well?  Are  all  well?” 

“All  well,  thank  you.  Have  you  dined?  No? 
Then  you  are  just  in  time.  Sinha ! Another  plate 
for  Sor  Chico  ! ” 

A tall,  thin,  Don-Quixote-sort-of-a  man  divested  him- 
self of  his  heavy  pala  and,  having  given  a hand  a- 


190 


Horacio 


round,  sat  down  on  the  chair  that  was  offered  to  him, 
as  though  his  hinges  were  rusty,  and  drew  a groan 
from  somewhere  back  of  his  wry  visage. 

“ What — not  rid  of  the  fever  yet  ? ” exclaimed  Sor 
Rufino,  in  cheerful  sympathy. 

“ No,  I’m  not  rid  of  it  yet.  ’ Tis  six  weeks  now 
that  it  is  hounding  me.  Aches  and  pains  in  my 
bones,  headaches,  can’t  eat,  can’t  do  anything ! ” 

“ Oughtn’t  to  be  out  in  the  dew-failin’,”  suggested 
Sor  Rufino,  tentatively. 

“ Worship  is  more  important  than  bodily  health,” 
rejoined  the  other,  in  a melancholy  tone. 

“ Seems  like  as  though  we  can  worship  better  when 
we  are  well.  Leastways,  that’s  how  it  strikes  me.” 

“ I am  in  hearty  accord  with  that  sentiment,”  said 
Horacio,  smiling. 

The  Long  Man  moved  his  hands  aside  to  make  room 
for  the  plate  which  was  placed  before  him ; then,  dis- 
regarding the  probability  that  grace  had  already  been 
asked,  joined  them  together  over  it  and  interrupted 
some  statement  of  Sor  Rufino  with  a second  invo- 
cation, loud  and  lengthy.  He  then  fell  to  upon  what 
there  was  remaining  of  the  meal,  in  a fashion  which 
betrayed  at  least  a transient  alleviation  of  his  loss  of 
appetite. 

Various  believers  now  began  to  ride,  or  walk,  up 
to  the  door,  according  as  their  homes  were  far  or 
near.  The  table  having  been  cleared  of  the  dishes, 
it  was  moved  to  the  end  of  the  sala  and  a clean 
towel,  with  crotcheted  ends  hanging  down,  was  dis- 
posed across  its  center.  Upon  this  was  placed  a 


The  First  Sermon  191 


large  Bible,  a hymn-book  and  two  candles.  Bench- 
es, chairs,  stools,  boxes,  and  boards  laid  across  blocks 
of  wood  were  arranged  in  front  of  this  impromptu 
pulpit,  and  Horacio  was  then  invited  to  take  charge 
of  the  service.  The  hymns  were  sung  with  a hearty 
good-will  and  thorough  enjoyment  and,  when  he  had 
read  the  Scripture-lesson,  Horacio  looked  about  over 
his  little  audience  and  prepared  to  preach  his  first 
sermon. 

At  the  close  of  his  address,  a woman  rose  hastily 
to  her  feet  and  exclaimed,  “Look  here  now, -—you 
people  have  this  religion,  and  that’s  all  right,  but  you 
know  everybody  here  has  religion  too.  You  just 
keep  still  and  we  don’t  mind  at  all,  but  we  don’t  like 
you  to  say  anything  about  it.” 

She  sat  down  in  a great  flutter,  but,  apparently, 
quite  persuaded  that  she  had  forever  settled  the  se- 
rious questions  which  had  long  been  agitating  the 
neighborhood. 

Late  that  night,  after  all  were  gone  save  the  long, 
thin  man  with  the  melancholy  visage  and  the  ailment, 
and  Horacio  had  already  lain  sleeping  for  an  hour  or 
so,  in  the  bit  of  a chinky  room  off  the  sala,  which 
they  had  given  him,  he  awoke  with  a start  and  that 
conviction  that  he  had  been  snoring  which  sometimes 
comes  to  us  as  a last,  lingering  rattle  dies  away  in 
our  waking  throats. 

The  voice  of  his  gossipy  host  fell  on  his  ears  : “Now, 
do  you  think  so  ? As  for  me,  I liked  it  very  well. 
To  be  sure,  the  text  was  not  a new  one — John  iii, 
16,  but  all  he  said  was  plain  and  simple,  and  even 


192 


Horacio 


the  kids  could  take  it  in.” 

“ A talk  for  children  ! Just  so  ! That  was  just 
what  I didn’t  like  ! All  Gospel  and  nothing— well, — 
doctrinal,  I suppose  I may  say.  Now,  there  is  the 
Reverend  Gentil ! He  is  just  the  man  for  me.” 

“He’s  all  right,  to  be  sure,”  replied  the  other, 
“ words  just  run  out  of  him  like  water  down  the  cor- 
rego.  He  don’t  need  to  do  any  thinkin’,  for  him  to 
talk.  There  aint  a word  he  says  has  less’n  seven 
syllables  in  it,  I fancy.” 

“ A fine  choice  of  words,  indeed,”  responded  the 
Long  Man,  in  a tone  which  seemed  to  have  been 
brought  on  by  his  ailment.  “ Gives  one  food  for 
thought.  Why,  I spend  hours — hours  ? yes,  days — 
I tell  you,  in  thinking  of  what  he  said  and  trying  to 
make  out  what  he  meant.  Why,  I can’t  find  some 
of  the  words  in  my  dictionary,  and  it’s  a good  one 
too,  whereas  this  youngster  just  used  common,  every- 
day words  and  I could  tell  in  a minute  just  what  he 
was  trying  to  get  at,  without  doing  any  thinking  at 
all.  He  didn’t  have  a black  coat,  either.” 

Horacio  lost  the  rest  of  what  was  said,  for  he  fell 
asleep  again,  but  when  he  awoke  the  next  morning 
it  was  still  fresh  in  his  memory  and  he  determined 
to  think  about  it  as  he  journeyed,  and  decide  where- 
in he  had  fallen  short. 


10 


AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE. 


H E next  morning  the  Long  Man 
with  the  ailment  accompanied  Ho- 
racio  for  a few  leagues  on  his  way, 
after  both  had  made  the  rounds  of 
the  houses  in  the  hamlet,  embrac- 
ed all  the  men  and  accepted  coffee 
from  each  housekeeper.  Their 
host  accompanied  them  upon  these  visits  of  ceremony, 
and  at  last  bade  them  farewell  with  cordial  embraces. 

“ Adeus  ! Adeus ! and  a thousand  thanks,”  cried 
Horacio,  riding  off. 

“ Until  to-morrow,”  cried  the  Long  Man,  who  was 
to  return  that  way  when  he  had  attended  to  some 
business  down  the  road,  “ if  God  wills and,  if  not, 
until  the  day  after,”  and  he  too  rode  off. 

A distant  thunder-storm  grumbled  gloomily  from 
over  the  forest,  in  the  direction  of  the  Tiete,  but  the 
young  man  was  due  at  a certain  sitio  that  same  even- 


194 


Horacio 


ing  and  could  not  delay  his  journey,  so  they  set  off, 
accompanied  also  by  the  gloomy  grumbling  of  the 
long  gentleman  with  the  ailment. 

“Father  Joao,  of  Jahu,  is  holding  a mission  hard 
by,  in  the  New  Chapel,”  said  Sor  Chico,  as  they  jog- 
ged along,  jerking  his  thumb  toward  a cross-road  to 
indicate  the  direction.  “ They  are  getting  worked  up 
over  this  district  and  want  to  try  and  bring  it  back 
again  into  the  fold.” 

“ Is  it  far  to  the  Chapel  ? ” asked  Horacio,  attract- 
ed by  the  name  of  his  ancient  enemy,  and  wonder- 
ing if  their  paths  were  to  cross  again  in  this  manner. 

“Far?  No!  It  stands  down  by  this  road,  a quar- 
ter of  a league  or  so.  Don’t  you  want  to  sell  some 
Bibles  to  him  ? ” and  the  Long  Man  chuckled,  sadly. 

Horacio  smiled  in  answer,  then  suddenly  checked 
his  horse.  “ It  is  going  to  rain,”  he  said,  glancing 
uneasily  at  the  sky.  Let  us  turn  back  to  the  Chapel 
and  hear  Father  Joao.  I don’t  want  to  wet  my  books 
and  I should  like  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say,  if  I 
can  slip  into  a shady  corner,  for  I know  his  Rever- 
ence very  well  and  do  not  care  to  have  him  see  me.” 

His  companion  seemed  nothing  loth  to  beard  the 
lion,  for  the  clouds  were  gathering  rapidly  and  the 
first  drops  had  already  commenced  to  fall.  Together 
they  turned  their  horses’  heads  toward  the  cross- 
roads and,  a quarter  of  an  hour  later,  as  the  rain 
began  to  fall  heavily,  they  drew  up  under  the  great 
shed,  or  rancho,  hard  by  the  Chapel,  and  made  their 
horses  fast  among  a half  hundred  others,  ere  they 
entered  the  little  church. 


195 


An  Old  Acquaintance 


The  priest  was  mounting  the  pulpit  for  his  sermon, 
as  they  entered.  The  Long  Man  drew  Horacio  into 
a shadowy  corner,  although  the  whole  church  was 
dark  because  of  the  storm,  and  whispered  in  his  ear, 
“ ’ Tis  a good  Presbyterian  audience,  come  to  hear 
him.  There  are  Julho  and  Mario  and  Augustinho 
and  a dozen  more  beside,  but  there  are  no  women 
here  excepting  Romanists.  I wonder  what  Father 
Joao  expects  to  do  with  our  people.  I expect—” 

The  voice  of  the  priest  interrupted  the  Long  Man, 
who  drew  back  into  his  corner  to  listen  unobserved. 
Father  Joao’s  voice  was  clear  and  pleasant  and  his 
well-rounded  and  stalwart  figure  protruded  magnifi- 
cently from  the  pulpit,  as  he  leaned  out  over  his 
audience. 

“ My  children,”  he  began,  “ once  upon  a time  there 
was  a dirty  monk  called  Luther,  the  same  who  is  the 
spiritual  father  of  the  Protestant,  blowhard  preach- 
ers, and,  consequently,  father-in-law  to  the  petticoat- 
ed  shepherdesses  of  the  reformed  religion  ; and  this 
monk  was  crazy  to  get  married. 

“Of  course  he  was  not  able  to  do  this  because,  at 
the  time  in  which  he  lived,  the  only  known  form  of 
marriage  was  that  administered  by  the  Roman  Church. 
Besides  this,  Brother  Luther  was  very  poor  and  he 
would  have  to  support  the  future  dear-half,  and  also 
the  pack  of  babies  that  might  come. 

“ So  Brother  Martin  said  to  himself,  ‘ I will  invent  a 
new  religion,  in  order  that  I may  have  the  means  to 
eat,  drink  and  sleep  my  fill.  I,  she,  and  those  that 
may  be  added  to  us,  will  pass  the  time  more  happily 


196 


Horacio 


than  can  be  imagined.  In  order  to  accomplish  these 
things  I shall  take  a Bible  and  translate  it  according 
to  my  views  and  plans.  I shall  alter  its  punctuation 
and  take  out  all  the  texts  that  may  not  accord  with 
the  doctrine  which  I am  going  to  teach  to  the  people. 
In  place  of  these  texts  I shall  insert  others  which 
suit  my  purpose  better  and  accord  with  that  new  life 
which  I shall  lead  when  I have  laid  aside  this  insup- 
portable frock  and  hung  it  upon  the  last  nail  I find 
as  I go  out  the  door  of  this  detestable  convent,  to 
throw  myself  body  and  soul  into  the  free  air,  where 
I shall  live  happily  and  light  of  heart  as  a little  bird 
out  of  its  cage. 

“ ‘ And  in  order  that  I may  bring  many-  people  to 
my  way  of  thinking,  I shall  lay  down  as  the  funda- 
mental dogma  of  my  new  religion  the  principle  of 
Justification  by  Faith — teaching  that  man  may  cover 
himself  with  vices  and  become  the  greatest  wretch 
on  earth  but  nevertheless  will  certainly  go  to  heav- 
en if— -he  only  have  faith. 

“ ‘ To  loose-minded  priests  I shall  say  that  they 
must  forsake,  once  and  for  all,  this  folly  of  ecclesi- 
astical celibacy,  and  put  in  practice  that  patriotic  text 
which  says : Increase  and  multiply. 

“ ‘ With  these  doctrines — insuring  the  most  ample 
liberty — I am  sure  that,  in  a short  time,  I shall  have 
running  after  me  a great  number  of  dissolute  padres ; 
an  infinite  multitude  of  criminals  of  all  classes,  and 
a vast  army  of  lost  women,  which  will  swell  the  ranks 
of  the  believers  of  the  true  Gospel,  to  which  I intend 
to  give  birth.’ 


The  First  Sermon  197 


“ Thus  spake  Luther,  and  acted  accordingly,  and  in 
this  way  he  built  up  that  sect  of  which  we  hear  by 
the  name  of  Protestants,  and  who,  finally,  are  noth- 
ing more  than  the  receptacle  for  the  dung  of  Roman- 
ism, which  pours  into  this  unclean  vessel  all  that 
which  is  without  value  in  the  pure  and  holy  Catholic 
Church.  All  this  I defy  anyone  to  contradict ! ” 

The  priest  paused  and  gazed  triumphantly  about. 
At  his  last  words  and  challenge  to  the  people,  Ho- 
ratio, who  had  been  smothering  his  indignation  with 
a great  effort  throughout  the  discourse,  sprang  for- 
ward, but  the  Long  Man’s  tentacle-like  arm  shot  out 
and  drew  him  back  into  the  shadow. 

Shaking  his  head  dolefully  at  the  lad,  Sor  Chico 
strode  forth  into  the  middle  of  the  church,  drawing 
a book  from  his  capacious  pocket. 

“ Here  is  Luther’s  Bible  ! ” he  cried,  waving  it  in 
the  air,  “ and  here  is  what  it  says  on  the  doctrine  of 
Justification  by  Faith  : 4 Faith  without  works  is  DEAD  ! ’ 
I denounce  the  statement  made  by  Father  Joao  as  a 
base  and  malicious  falsehood,  and  challenge  him  to 
produce  a Romanist  Bible — if  he  has  one — and  show 
me  wherein  it  essentially  differs  from  this.” 

The  meager  form  of  the  Long  Man  with  the  ail- 
ment seemed  to  swell  into  imposing  proportions.  His 
eye  flashed  fire  and  he  waved  the  Bible  menacingly 
toward  Father  Joao.  In  a moment  the  church  was 
in  an  uproar.  The  Protestants,  restrained  until  now 
by  the  influence  of  what  was,  at  least  in  name,  a 
sanctuary,  burst  into  cries  of  applause  and  loud  vivas  : 
the  Catholics,  on  the  other  hand,  indignant  at  what 


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seemed  to  them  an  outrage  and  profanation,  and  for- 
getting that  Padre  Joao  himself  had  challenged  the 
refutation  of  his  own  statements,  drew  heavy  whips 
and  great  knives  for  the  vindication  of  their  creed. 
In  a moment  there  might  have  been  bloodshed,  had 
not  the  priest  himself  hurried  down  from  the  pulpit 
and  thrust  his  burly  form  between  them.  It  was  not 
to  his  interest  to  have  the  responsibility  for  a scene 
of  this  kind  in  a neighborhood  where  four-fifths  of 
the  inhabitants  were  Protestants,  so  he  chose  the  al- 
ternative of  hurrying  the  opposition  forth  from  the 
building,  in  the  interests  of  peace,  and  when  quiet 
had  been  restored  at  last,  went  on  with  his  discourse 
to  his  own  liking,  but  minus  a large  part  of  his  au- 
dience. 

In  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  this  incident  Horacio 
had  slipped  out  to  the  shed,  where  he  was  now  re- 
joined by  the  Long  Man  and,  as  the  shower  had 
ceased,  they  mounted  and  continued  on  their  way. 

At  the  house  of  a believer,  where  Horacio  break- 
fasted, his  companion  bade  him  farewell  and  turned 
off  upon  another  road,  while  the  young  man  went 
straight  on. 

Jogging  along  upon  his  way,  he  was  easily  over- 
taken by  a young  caboclo  going  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, and  not  so  much  inclined  to  spare  his  beast. 

“ Good  afternoon  ! ” said  Horacio,  pleasantly. 

“ Good  afternoon  ! ” replied  the  other,  looking  at 
him  with  that  infantile  curiosity  which  every  stranger 
calls  forth  in  a countryman.  The  caboclo  reined  his 
horse  back  to  keep  abreast  of  the  colporteur. 


An  Old  Acquaintance  199 


“Are  you  peddling?  Have  you  shirts?”  he  ask- 
ed, eying  the  saddle-bags. 

“ No,”  answered  Horacio,  “ I have  no  shirts.  I am 
selling  books.  Can  you  read  ? ” 

“ Yes — a little,  but  I don’t  read  often ; only  a stray 
newspaper,  once  in  a while,  when  I get  hold  of  it. 
What  books  have  you  ? ” 

“ Only  the  Bible,  now,  and  hymn-books.  The  rest 
are  all  sold.  Have  you  ever  fallen  in  with  these 
Protestants  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes  ! There’s  a lot  of  them  hereabouts.  I 
haint  got  nothin’  agin  ’em.” 

“ Did  you  ever  talk  with  them  about  what  they  be- 
lieve ? ” urged  the  young  man,  as  he  saw  that  his 
companion  was  not  disinclined  to  conversation. 

“ I can’t  say  as  I have — very  much,”  replied  the 
young  countryman.  “It  don’t  bother  me  what  folks 
think,  so  long  as  they  treat  me  decent.” 

“ Perhaps  it  ought  to  bother  you,  though,”  insisted 
the  student.  “ If  a man  were  thinking  that  he  had 
left  ten  contos  of  reis  in  that  hollow  log  for  you, 
wouldn’t  it  be  worth  while  paying  attention  to  what 
he  thought?” 

The  caboclo  laughed.  “ No  such  luck,”  he  said, 
“folks  haint  leavin’  fortunes  around  like  that  in  hol- 
low logs,”  and  he  cocked  his  eye  knowingly  at  the 
log,  as  though  to  size  up  its  capacity. 

“ There  ! ” said  Horacio,  laughing,  “ you  are  think- 
ing about  that  imaginary  fortune  already.  Just  look 
here ! In  this  little  book  you  can  learn  how  to  find 
a much  greater  fortune  than  that.  I want  to  sell  it 


200 


Horacio 


to  you.” 

The  caboclo’s  eyes  opened  with  wonder.  “ What 
might  it  be  ? ” he  asked,  with  awe— then,  brightening 
with  supposed  understanding,  “ tells  you  how  to  pick 
the  lucky  numbers  in  the  Lottery,  no  ? ” 

“ Better  than  that ! It  tells  you  how  to  come  to 
the  City  with  streets  of  gold  and  walls  of  jasper, 
whose  gates  are  gems,  and  where  everybody  is  hap- 
py forever.  It  tells  how  to  be  rid  of  our  sins  and 
find  a Savior— and  all  for  a mil  five  ! ” 

“ A mil  five  ! ” cried  the  astonished  caboclo,  “ why, 
it’s  all  leather  and  gold!  You’re  joking!  You  can’t 
sell  it  for  three  milreis,  I know.  I’ll  give  you  that 
much  for  it.” 

“ No,”  said  the  colporteur,  “ I only  want  a mil  five, 
—no  more  and  no  less.  Is  it  a bargain?” 

The  young  fellow  took  the  book  and  turned  the 
leaves  with  curiosity,  then  drew  two  dirty  notes  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  them  to  Horacio.  “ Here  ! ” 
he  said,  eying  him  doubtfully,  for  fear  it  might  be  a 
hoax. 

Horacio  took  the  money  and  bade  him  find  a place, 
past  the  middle  of  the  book,  where  it  said  “ Sao 
Mattheus  ”,  to  begin  his  reading. 

At  this  moment  they  passed  a turn  in  the  road  and 
came  in  sight  of  a little  cabin,  in  the  midst  of  a small 
clearing.  In  the  roga,  far  away,  a woman  was  work- 
ing with  a hoe.  From  the  cabin  came  the  sound  of 
singing,  and  the  cheerful  notes  of  a lively  Protestant 
hymn  reached  the  ears  of  the  horsemen. 

“ Let  us  stop  here  ! ” said  the  colporteur  to  his  com- 


An  Old  Acquaintance  201 


panion,  “ I may  sell  some  books.  Oh,  the  house  ! ” 
he  called. 

The  singing  continued,  but,  at  a second  cry,  sud- 
denly ceased.  Horacio  approached  nearer  to  the 
door : “ Give  license  ? ” he  enquired. 

“Why  not?”  came  in  a cheerful  voice  from  with- 
in. “ Have  the  goodness  to  dismount  and  enter ! 
Excuse,  for  I can’t  go  forth  to  meet  you.” 

Horacio  and  his  companion  dismounted  and  enter- 
ed. The  house  was  more  than  usually  neat.  The 
sala,  or  living-room,  in  which  they  now  stood,  was 
floored  with  good,  sawn  planks,  and  the  walls  were 
white-washed  around.  Overhead,  a ceiling  of  woven 
rushes  gave  the  place  an  air  of  finish,  and  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room  stood  a section  of  a great  log,  hol- 
lowed out  like  a canoe  and  full  of  water.  In  the 
water  sat  a middle-aged  man,  with  a wooden  tray  a- 
cross  the  log  in  front  of  him,  on  which  were  placed 
a Bible  and  a little  hymn-book. 

“Have  the  goodness  to  excuse,”  said  the  man,  a- 
gain,  “ I can’t  leave  the  water  very  well.  You  see, 
I have  the  fogo  selvagem( wild-fire).” 

Horacio  now  noticed  that  the  man’s  skin  was  a 
deep  color  of  inflammation,  as  though  he  had  been 
stung  by  nettles. 

“ Are  you  poisoned  ? ” he  asked,  sympathetically, 
seating  himself  upon  a bench. 

“Some  sort  of  poison,  I suppose,”  replied  the  man. 
“ No  one  knows  just  what  it  comes  from,  but  it  nev- 
er leaves  a man  until  it  finishes  him,”  he  went  on, 
with  the  same  air  of  cheerfulness. 


202 


Horacio 


“ Does  it  pain  you  much  ? ” asked  the  caboclo,  with 
interest. 

“ Oh,  it’s  not  so  very  bad,  as  long  as  I can  stay  in 
the  water.  When  I get  out,  it  is  like  a thousand 
needles  stinging  day  and  night,  but — praise  the  Lord  ! 
— it  aint  as  bad  as  it  might  be.” 

“ But  how  do  you  get  along  ? Are  you  all  alone  ? ” 
asked  Horacio,  full  of  wonder. 

“ No,  no— praise  the  Lord  ! My  good  woman  works 
in  the  roca  and  at  night,  when  she  comes  home,  she 
fixes  up  the  house.  I do  what  I can  at  the  sewing, 
though  it  isn’t  much.  Praise  the  Lord!— we  have 
no  children  now,  to  make  matters  worse,  although 
there  are  three  laid  away  in  the  ground.  We  have 
all  we  need  and,  when  I am  gone,  her  folks  are  well 
enough  able  to  take  her  in.  I have  these  blessed 
books  and  yet  I was  grumbling  just  now  because,  al- 
though I can  read  the  words,  I have  only  this  little 
hymn-book  without  the  music.  I know  no  more  than 
a half  dozen  tunes  that  my  wife  learned  at  the  meet- 
ing. But — praise  the  Lord  ! — what  a state  1 should 
be  in  if  I didn’t  know  any!” 

“ Can  you  read  the  music  ? ” asked  Horacio,  with 
a curious  tug  at  his  heart. 

“ That  I can  ! ” replied  the  sick  man,  from  his  tub, 
“ I learned  to  play  the  horn  years  ago,  in  the  band 
at  Rio  Claro,  but  I have  never  yet  seen  a hymn-book 
with  music.” 

“ I have  one  in  my  saddle-bags  now,”  said  the  col- 
porteur. “ I shall  fetch  it  for  you.”  He  turned  and 
went  out.  “Twelve  milreis ! Twelve  milreis!”  he 


An  Old  Acquaintance  203 


kept  saying  to  himself  as  he  went. 

Of  all  his  books,  the  hymn-books  alone  cost  him 
anything,  the  others  being  furnished  gratis  to  the 
theological  students  to  help  them  out  in  their  course. 
On  the  hymn-books  the  margin  of  profit  was  very 
small,  and  the  prices  were  high.  For  this  book  at 
twelve  milreis  he  must  pay  ten  milreis  on  his  return, 
yet  the  sight  of  this  poor  man  in  his  great  tub  of 
water,  was  too  much  for  him. 

Returning  to  the  house,  with  the  book  in  his  hand, 
he  reached  it  out  to  the  sick  man.  “Take  it,”  he 
said,  “ it  is  yours  ! ” 

The  poor  wretch  in  the  tub  grasped  the  precious 
book  with  trembling  hands  and  turned  its  leaves  with 
eager  haste,  then  looked  anxiously  toward  the  giver. 

“But  you  have  them  to  sell?  You  are  a poor 
man,  also?  No,-— I cannot  take  it  without  payment. 
I have  money.  I shall  pay  you.  What  does  it  cost?” 

“That  is  no  matter,”  replied  Horacio,  flushing  at 
thought  of  revealing  the  price  of  the  book. 

The  man  seemed  to  divine  his  thought.  “ Tell  me, 
or  I cannot  accept  it,”  he  said,  seriously. 

“I  sell  them  for  twelve  milreis($3.Q0).  They  are 
not  cheap,”  said  the  young  man,  after  a pause  and  a 
moment  of  hesitation.  He  saw  in  the  face  of  the 
sick  man  the  effect  of  his  words— a cloud  which  pass- 
ed over  it  on  hearing  the  sum  named. 

“ Let  us  arrange  it  another  way,”  he  suggested,  as 
a thought  struck  him,  “ the  senhor  will  pay  me  one 
half,  and  I shall  present  him  with  the  other.” 

The  man’s  face  instantly  brightened  and  the  cloud 


204 


Horacio 


passed  from  it.  “Go  to  the  shelf,”  he  said,  pointing 
toward  it,  “ and  you  will  find  some  money  in  a bowl. 
Take  the  six  milreis  and  may  God  bless  you  ! Twelve 
was  more  than  you  or  I could  afford,  I fancy,  but  I 
accept  with  pleasure  the  half  of  the  book,”  and  he 
commenced  humming  a snatch  of  a hymn  here  and 
there,  as  he  turned  the  leaves  caressingly. 

“Now,  I shall  sing  you  something  you  may  not 
have  heard.  It  is  new  among  us.  Turn  to  number 
four  hundred  and  three,”  said  Horacio,  and  then  he 
sang : 

“ I am  far  frae  my  hame,  and  I’m  weary  aftenwhiles, 

For  the  langed-for  hame-bringin’  an’  my  Father’s 
welcome  smiles.” 

This  hymn  has  been  translated  into  Portuguese,  to 
a suitable  meter,  and  is  sung  to  “ Suwanee  River”. 

The  poor  sufferer  followed  the  words  with  rapt  at- 
tention, exclaiming  at  last,  “ Sou  eu  ! Sou  eu  ! It  is 
I ! ” in  a voice  choked  with  emotion,  while  the  tears 
which  the  fogo  selvagem  could  not  bring  to  his  eyes, 
ran  down  his  cheeks  and  mingled  with  the  water  in 
which  he  quenched  the  fire  of  his  malady. 

The  young  men  now  arose  to  take  their  departure, 
much  to  the  regret  of  the  invalid,  who  urged  them 
to  await  his  wife’s  coming,  when  she  would  prepare 
coffee  for  them.  Time  pressed,  however,  and  they 
could  not  wait,  so  they  bade  the  man  farewell  and 
mounted  their  horses,  but,  before  they  were  out  of 
hearing,  the  voice  of  the  sufferer  was  heard  singing 
cheerfully : 

“ I have  found  a friend  in  Jesus ; 


An  Old  Acquaintance  205 


He’s  everything  to  me  : 

He’s  the  chiefest  of  ten  thousand  to  my  soul.” 

“He  has  found  the  tune  on  the  opposite  page — 
number  four  hundred  and  two — and  it  will  comfort 
him,”  said  Horacio,  laughing  contentedly. 

“ Do  you  know  the  whole  book  ? ” asked  his  com- 
panion, wonderingly. 

“ Pretty  nearly,”  replied  Horacio,  “ but  there  are 
many  hymns  and  some  of  them  are  very  fine.  The 
Protestants  sing  them  in  their  meetings.  Do  you  ap- 
preciate music  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I like  it.  I play  the  viola  a little  and  can 
sing  some  modinhas  passably  well,  but  I should  like 
to  learn  these  here  hymns,  if  they  can  make  that 
poor  fellow  merry.” 

“ Come  with  me  to  Sor  Erasmo’s  to-night  and  you 
will  hear  plenty,  and  also  other  good  things -—the 
Way  of  Life  and  the  Secret  of  Happiness.  Do  you 
believe  in  God  ? ” 

“ Yes,  I believe  there  is  a God— -else  how  could  we 
live  ? But  I know  nothing  of  Him,  save  what  the 
Padres  say,  and  they  are  always  talking  of  the  Saints 
and  Virgin,  and  fingering  the  pennies  with  their  sticky 
fingers.  What  does  it  cost  to  be  a Protestant  ? ” 

“ It  costs  nothing.  The  religion  of  Jesus  is  free.” 

“ What ! does  it  cost  nothing  to  be  baptized,  or 
married  or  buried  ? ” 

“Nothing  whatever.  You  may  give  of  your  own 
free  will  to  help  sustain  the  cause,  but  that  is  all. 
Repent  of  your  sins  and  accept  the  sacrifice  of  Christ, 
— then  confess  His  name.  That  is  what  it  takes  to 


206 


Horacio 


be  a Protestant.” 

“ I will  think  about  it,  but  I cannot  go  with  you 
to-night.  I turn  off  here  and  must  play  at  a baile 
near  by,  but  I’ll  go  some  other  time.  Do  you  know 
your  road  to  Sor  Erasmo’s  ? ” he  concluded,  as  he 
turned  his  horse’s  head  at  the  cross-roads,  and  drew 
rein  for  a moment. 

“ Oh,  yes,”  replied  Horacio,  pulling  at  Bonito’s  rein, 
“and,  if  not,  I have  a map  and  compass  and  can 
find  it.” 

“ Do  not  kill  any  rattlesnakes  by  the  way,  then,” 
said  the  caboclo,  gravely. 

“ Why  not  ? ” enquired  the  other,  in  surprise. 

“ They  say  the  venom  of  the  snake  will  take  the 
power  out  of  the  needle,  if  anyone  who  has  one  of 
them  things  kills  one.” 

Horacio  laughed.  “I  have  no  fear  of  that!  Well, 
good-bye ! A pleasant  ride  to  you ! Do  not  forget 
to  read  the  Book  ! ” and  he  leaned  across,  from  his 
horse,  to  shake  his  hand  warmly,  and  spurred  on  his 
way. 

The  caboclo  turned  also— then  shouted  back  over 
his  shoulder  to  Horacio,  who  checked  his  horse  to 
% hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

“ Better  keep  a movin’ ! ” called  the  young  country- 
man. “ There’s  a bad  place  on  the  road,  this  side 
of  Sor  Erasmo’s.” 

“ What  is  it  ? A mud-hole  ? ” asked  the  colporteur. 

“ No — it  is  far  worse ! There  was  a man  had  a 
grudge  against  another  man  and  killed  him  : then  he 
cut  the  corpse  in  pieces  and  hung  them  there,  on  the 


An  Old  Acquaintance  207 


branches  of  a tree  by  the  road.” 

“I  am  not  afraid  of  a dead  man,”  said  Horacio, 
laughing  at  the  awe  in  the  caboclo’s  voice  and  man- 
ner. “ I have  been  a soldier.  Is  that  all  ? ” 

“ No,  it  is  not  all.  A neighbor  went  to  hew  out  a 
monjolo,  close  by  the  spot,  and  when  he  had  work- 
ed three  or  four  weeks  and  finished  it,  he  went  to 
fetch  his  oxen  and  drag  it  out,  but  when  he  came 
back  with  the  team,  there  was  the  devil,  or  the  spirit 
of  the  dead  man,  in  the  form  of  a goat,  on  top  of 
the  monjolo.  He  got  out  of  there  as  fast  as  he  could 
with  his  oxen  and  left  it  where  it  lay.  You  can  see 
it  there  yet — all  rotten.” 

Horacio  laughed  again,  to  the  great  scandal  of  his 
new  friend,  and  thanked  him  for  his  warning,  leav- 
ing him  shaking  his  head  dubiously  at  his  incredulity. 


11 

JUDGMENT. 

H E excitement  at  the  Chapel  hav- 
ing been  quieted,  and  the  sermon 
resumed,  no  further  interruption 
disturbed  Father  Joao:  thus  he  was 
able  to  finish  his  address  to  his 
own  entire  satisfaction  and  to  the 
evident  edification  of  his  audience, 
now  relieved  of  dissenting  elements. 

After  descending  from  the  pulpit,  the  great  priest, 
whose  bulk  had  been  somewhat  softened  into  podg- 
iness by  advancing  years  and  self-indulgence,  stood 
about  and  chatted  with  various  groups,  discussing 
the  incident  which  had  disturbed  the  harmony  of  the 
meeting,  slapping  men  heartily  on  their  backs,  chuck- 
ing maids  under  their  chins  and  joking  the  mothers 
about  their  husbands  and  babies. 

There  was  a batch  of  these  last  to  be  christened 
and  two  or  three  couples  to  be  married,  as  well  as 


Judgment 


209 


a dinner  to  be  eaten  at  a neighbor’s. 

The  babies  were  soon  disposed  of,  and  the  fat  fees, 
for  big  and  little  babies  alike,  jingled  in  the  pockets 
of  the  good  padre’s  soutane.  The  weddings  waited 
not  for  the  civil  ceremony,  although  the  ecclesiastic 
knew  enough  common  law  to  be  perfectly  well  aware 
that  his  form  of  words  was  legally  valueless  without 
it.  His  charge  was  the  same  in  either  case,  and  his 
hearty  laugh  shook  the  tiles  on  their  bamboo  slats 
above  his  head  when  someone  hinted  of  the  neces- 
sity for  going  first  to  the  magistrate. 

The  laugh  shook  the  last  lingering  doubts  out  of 
the  minds  of  the  faithful  and  was  frank  and  hearty 
enough  to  restore  confidence  even  to  a woman  in 
hysterics.  The  priest  had  soon  cleared  these  little 
matters  out  of  the  way  and  was  on  his  way  to  dine 
with  a well-to-do  planter  in  the  vicinity. 

“What  is  not  on  the  table  is  excused,”  said  the 
padre,  bv  way  of  grace,  as  he  glanced  at  the  loaded 
table  and  heaved  a sigh  of  satisfaction,  for  he  had 
labored  well,  and  felt  that  he  had  demolished  all  the 
fortifications  of  the  enemy  and  deserved  his  reward. 
The  viands  were  certainly  abundant,  if  not  very  choice 
and  delicate. 

“ Sample  this  pinga,  Father  Joao  ! ” cried  his  host, 
pouring  into  a large  glass  the  transparent  liquid  which 
conceals  such  deadly  effects  in  such  innocent  guise. 
“ It  is  a special  brand  of  my  own.  Eitah  ! what  a 
flavor ! ” and  he  smacked  his  lips  and  rolled  his  eyes 
in  appreciation  of  his  own  product,  as  he  handed  the 
brimming  glass  to  the  padre. 


210 


Horacio 


The  priest’s  rotund  face  took  on  a tragic  look  of 
mild  despair,  which  was  almost  pitiful.  “ God  gives 
nuts  to  him  who  has  no  teeth,  and  teeth  to  him  who 
has  no  nuts,”  he  said,  with  another  sigh:  “the  Doc- 
tor— alas  ! — has  ordered  me  to  leave  off  pinga,  to  re- 
duce my  bulk,”— then  his  face  cleared  and  he  meas- 
ured his  great  girth  as  far  as  he  could  with  his  two 
hands.  “ I’ve  quit  for  two  weeks,  now,”  he  went  on, 
joyfully,  “ and  my  belly  has  gone  down  three  centi- 
meters—think  of  that ! ” 

“Measuring  through,  or  measuring  around,  Father 
Joao  ? ” asked  his  host,  mischievously. 

“ Measuring  around,  of  course,”  answered  the  priest, 
indignantly. 

“ Then  that  is  nothing — nothing  at  all,”  went  on 
the  other.  “You  could  squeeze  your  great  paunch 
in  more  than  that  with  the  tape-line  without  knowing 
it.  Better  throw  your  doctor  over  and  take  a drink  ! ” 

Father  Joao  gazed  wistfully  at  the  glass  which 
stood  before  him  on  the  table,  and  for  a moment  he 
wavered,  but  his  host  took  pity  on  him  at  last  and 
cried  out : “ Come,  my  Father ; here  is  a religious  duty 
for  your  Reverence  to  perform  ! Drown  the  Devil 
and  see  the  Blessed  Virgin,”  and  he  handed  him  a 
porcelain  cup,  filled  with  red  wine. 

“ How  is  that  ? ” cried  the  priest,  with  a perplexed 
grin — the  perplexity  at  the  man’s  saying,  and  the  grin 
at  the  wine — “ha,  ha!  I see,  now  ! But  where  is 
the  Blessed  Virgin?” 

“Drown  the  Devil  and  you  will  see  her!  Tip  it 
up,  Father  Joao;  tip  it  up!” 


Judgment  211 

The  priest  “ tipped  it  up  ” with  a hearty  good-will, 
and,  as  the  grateful  liquor  passed  gurgling  over  the 
devil  that  was  painted  on  the  inside  edge  of  the  cup, 
a figure  of  the  Virgin  appeared,  painted  on  the  bot- 
tom. At  sight  of  her,  the  priest  took  in  the  point  of 
the  joke  with  the  wine,  and  gave  a snort  of  appre- 
ciation, taking  a gulp  of  the  liquor  the  wrong  way 
at  the  same  time. 

Instantly  he  was  coughing  and  sputtering  and  laugh- 
ing, all  at  once,  while  his  host  slapped  him  on  the 
back,  to  bring  him  to,  and  cried : “ Pretty  good,  isn’t 
it  ? I thought  you  would  like  that ! I brought  it 
from  town  yesterday,  just  for  your  Reverence.” 

“You  must  give  it  to  me  then,  my  son,”  said  Fath- 
er Joao,  when  he  had  recovered  a little.  “ In  my 
business  one  needs  oft  to  drown  the  Devil — yes,  and 
see  the  virgin,  too,”  and  he  winked  slyly  at  his  host, 

Then  ensued  such  a drowning  of  Satan  that  even 
an  electric  battery  would  not  have  sufficed  to  resus- 
citate him  when  the  good  father  was  at  last  ready  to 
go  on  his  way : for  he  meant  to  sleep  a couple  of 
leagues  farther  on,  that  night. 

“Well,  let  us  be  off,  then,”  he  grumbled,  at  last. 
“ 0 necessario  e preciso  ! ” and  he  arose  with  the  help 
of  his  hands  on  the  table ; but  it  required  some  little 
engineering  to  put  him  in  his  saddle,  and  the  knees 
of  his  horse  swayed  perilously  as  he  dropped  heav- 
ily into  the  seat. 

Two  of  the  men  who  had  dined  with  him  were  to 
escort  him,  and  the  little  company  of  horsemen  got 
started  just  as  dusk  fell  upon  the  forest. 


212 


Horacio 


When  they  had  ridden  along  the  road  a bit  and 
gossiped  of  one  thing  and  another,  of  a sudden  one 
of  his  companions  spoke  up. 

“Were  I alone,”  he  said,  “you  would  not  get  me 
to  go  this  road  to-night,  but,  by  good-luck,  Father 
Joao  is  with  us.” 

“ Nor  I,”  assented  the  other,  “ not  without  Father 
Joao  : for  1 the  Devil  flies  the  Cross  ’.” 

“ How  is  that  ? ” asked  the  priest,  with  a leer,  ex- 
pecting some  piece  of  rustic  witticism. 

“ ’ Tis  the  anniversary  of  the  murder  of  Riberao 
Fundo,”  was  the  reply. 

“ What  of  it  ? ” asked  the  priest,  “ but  talk  of  some- 
thing pleasant ! ” 

“’Twas  here  ahead  of  us  a bit,”  said  he  who  had 
spoken  first,  “ where  he  hung  the  pieces  on  the  tree.” 

“ And  it  is  there,  hard  by,  that  the  old  monjolo 
stands,  where  the  Devil  appeared  to  Chico  Ribeiro,” 
added  the  other. 

“What  story  is  that  of  the  Devil,  man?”  asked  the 
priest,  with  an  uneasy  laugh.  “We  drowned  him 
this  day,  sure  enough ! He’ll  not  appear  again.” 

His  companions  joined  in  his  laugh  with  a marked 
effort,  but  the  sound  of  their  mirth  was  weird  to 
their  own  ears  in  the  night  air  of  the  forest.  The 
moon  was  nearly  full  and  had  just  risen  above  the 
tree-tops,  casting  one  side  of  the  road  into  shadow 
and  the  other  into  the  light,  while  the  night-birds 
called  to  one  another  from  gloom  to  gloom. 

“ The  whole  trouble  came  of  a pitiful  goat.  A quar- 
rel over  a goat ! and  he  cut  up  Sor  Pedro  and  hung 


Judgment 


213 


the  pieces  on  that  tree,  over  the  road,”  said  the  first 
man,  in  a harsh  whisper,  and  pointing  as  the  tree 
came  in  sight. 

“ And  then  the  Devil  came,  in  the  form  of  a goat, 
and  stood  upon  the  old  monjolo,  there,”  said  the  sec- 
ond, pointing  in  turn  to  the  rude  mass  of  wood  that 
stood  in  a little  open  space  where  its  superstitious 
hewer  had  left  it,  long  before. 

“ Talk  of  something  pleasant,  man ! ” hastily  ejacu- 
lated Padre  Joao,  again,  with  an  attempt  at  a laugh. 
“ Talk  of  cows  or  even  pigs,  but  let  the  goats  be ! ” 

“ Hush  ! What  is  that  ? ” cried  the  man. 

“ What  is  what  ? ” gasped  the  priest,  with  starting 
eyes,  for  at  this  moment  something  white  in  the  moon- 
light, with  long  curved  horns  and  flowing  beard,  sprang 
lightly  upon  the  ancient  block  of  wood.  A loud  shriek 
came  from  the  terrified  horsemen. 

“ Holy  Mother  of  God  ! Exorcis — ” cried  the  priest, 
as  their  startled  horses  sprang  forward  and  dashed 
blindly  down  the  road. 

His  two  companions  gained  rapidly  on  him,  for  their 
horses  bore  lighter  loads,  and  soon  they  had  left  him 
well  in  the  rear. 

Mad  with  drunken  terror,  he  struck  his  animal  sav- 
agely with  his  heavy  whip.  The  poor  beast  swerved 
suddenly  under  the  blows,  bringing  his  rider  heavily 
to  the  ground  with  his  head  doubled  under  his  great 
shoulders. 

A sickening  snap  and  the  mass  quivered  and  grew 
still,  in  a queer  unshapely  heap,  hunched  up  against 
the  foot  of  a sapling. 


214 


Horacio 


The  next  morning,  the  young  caboclo,  who  had 
ridden  with  Horacio,  found  the  body  of  Father  Joao, 
as  he  returned  that  way  from  the  dance. 

He  it  was  who  let  the  neighbors  know  what  had 
happened,  and  when  they  turned  the  body  over,  a 
few  pieces  of  broken  porcelain  fell  out  of  a pocket. 

On  one  of  these  bits  the  face  of  the  Virgin  appear- 
ed, and  on  another — the  largest  of  them  all— -that  of 
an  evil,  horned  creature  with  a diabolical  leer. 


12 

FOUND . 

HAT  same  night,  our  young  col- 
porteur held  a service  similar  to 
that  which  he  had  conducted  at 
Sor  Rufino’s  and  pressed  on,  the 
next  day,  toward  the  end  of  his 
journey,  a couple  of  days’  ride 
farther  on. 

Sor  Erasmo  had  given  him  minute  directions  for 
finding  the  road  but,  either  they  were  too  minute  or 
not  minute  enough : in  any  case,  as  the  afternoon 
waned,  he  found  himself  unable  to  recognize  any  of 
the  landmarks  which  Sor  Erasmo  had  labored  to  im- 
press upon  his  memory,  and,  as  he  went  farther  and 
farther  along,  his  map  and  compass  told  him  that  he 
had  made  a wide  detour  and  could  not  hope  to  ar- 
rive at  his  destination  by  following  the  road  which 
lay  before  him. 

Whether  to  return  or  to  chance  finding  a stopping- 


216 


Horacio 


place  a bit  farther  on,  at  which  to  pass  the  night, 
was  the  question  which  now  engrossed  him. 

As  he  thought  upon  it,  Bonito  brought  him  to  a 
clearing,  and  a glance  ahead  showed  him  a miserable 
house,  or  cabin  of  poles,  with  a thatched  roof.  Fen- 
ces in  ruin  and  a feeble  effort  here  and  there  to 
bring  the  land  in  order,  indicated  that  the  owner  of 
the  sitio  was  one  of  those  chronically  indolent  or  dis- 
couraged persons  to  be  found  in  all  parts  of  the 
world,  but  especially  in  southern  latitudes. 

A couple  of  rakish  poles  in  the  quintal,  striped  with 
black  and  red,  supported  squares  of  weather-faded 
cotton  cloth  with  crudely  painted  figures  to  replace 
the  usual  prints  of  Saint  John  and  Saint  Anthony. 
These  curious  works  of  art,  indeed,  looked  rather 
like  beetles  than  men,  but,  doubtless,  were  fully  as 
efficacious  in  bringing  good-luck  as  though  they  had 
been  lithographed  in  four  colors. 

However  this  may  be,  as  the  hour  was  late  and 
he  was  hungry,  he  determined  to  ask  hospitality  of 
those  who  dwelt  in  the  tumble-down  house. 

Drawing  near  to  the  place,  he  perceived  a man, 
well  on  past  middle-age,  leaning  against  the  casing 
of  the  door.  In  the  spare  and  languid  figure,  wasted 
by  the  fever  and  bent  by  labor,  Horacio  was  aston- 
ished to  recognize— his  father  ! 

A sudden  grip  at  the  heart  caught  the  words  from 
his  lips ; then  he  put  the  thought  from  him  and  as- 
sured himself  that  a chance  resemblance  was  all  that 
there  could  be  in  common  between  that  stalwart, 
strong-armed  parent  of  his  and  this  poor  creature, 


Found 


217 


who  seemed  to  be  trying  to  sustain  his  falling  house, 
or  perhaps  they  mutually  sustained  one  another. 

“ I have  lost  my  way,”  he  said,  after  saluting  the 
man  courteously,  “ I must  have  passed  a cross-roads 
without  noticing.  I was  going  to  pass  the  night  at 
Sor  Martinho’s — Sor  Martinho  Toledo.  Have  1 gone 
far  astray  ? ” 

“Yes,  a goodish  bit,”  replied  the  man,  “ — a good- 
ish  bit,  indeed.  The  cross-roads  is  a good  two  leagues 
back — then  two  leagues  and  a half,  or  thereabouts, 
would  bring  you  to  Martinho’s.  You  will  find  it  hard 
to  get  there  to-night.” 

Horacio  hesitated  and,  at  this  moment,  a woman 
appeared  in  the  doorway  and  gazed  out  over  the  old 
man’s  shoulder.  It  was  his  mother ! An  inexplicable, 
perverse  impulse  moved  him  to  restrain  himself  when 
he  would  have  cried  out. 

“ Could  you  make  shift  to  accommodate  me  here, 
for  the  night  ? ” he  asked,  at  length,  “ or  is  there — ” 
a better  place,  he  was  going  to  say,  then  changed  it 
to,  “ any  other  place,  farther  on  ? I can  sleep  on 
my  saddle-blankets,  in  any  corner,”  he  added,  at  sight 
of  the  troubled  look  on  the  man’s  face. 

The  woman  started  as  he  spoke  and  gazed  eagerly 
at  him  ; then  her  face  relapsed  into  its  former  im- 
passibility. 

Her  husband — or  as  we  may  as  well  say  at  once — 
Horacio’s  father,  looked  enquiringly  at  the  woman ; 
then  straightened  himself  a bit  and  shambled  down 
toward  the  rickety  gate. 

“Well,”  he  said,  as  he  approached,  “we  have  not 


218 


Horacio 


much  to  offer  but,  such  as  it  is,  you’re  welcome  to 
it.  It’s  full  two  leagues  to  the  next  place  along  this 
road,  and  you  can  hardly  make  it  to-night.  Dismount, 
sir,  and  enter  ! There’s  a bit  of  corn  in  the  payol, 
there,  for  your  horse.  Seems  like  I’ve  seen  that 
there  beast  before,  somewhere,”  he  added,  running 
his  hand  over  Bonito’s  neck,  who  sniffed  at  him  as 
though  he  too  felt  a vague  sense  of  recognition  take 
hold  of  him. 

“ Like  as  not,”  replied  Horacio,  indifferently,  as  he 
slipped  to  the  ground ; “ I borrowed  him  from  a man 
in  Jahu.” 

The  man  gathered  up  the  reins  to  lead  the  animal 
away.  “ I suppose  that  is  where  1 seen  him,”  he 
said,  turning  away ; “ I used  to  live  nigh  to  Jahu,  a 
few  years  back.” 

A couple  of  young  girls  had  now  appeared  in  the 
doorway  and,  as  Horacio  shook  hands  all  around,  he 
found  it  difficult  to  recognize  his  sisters,  and  more 
difficult  to  restrain  the  eager  questions  which  were 
struggling  for  voice. 

Throwing  his  whip  and  saddle-bags  upon  a bench, 
he  dropped  wearily  beside  them  and  gazed  about  the 
room.  Chinks  between  the  poles  which  formed  its 
frail  walls  gave  frank  entrance  to  the  air  from  with- 
out. The  floor  was  the  solid  earth,  worn  in  ruts 
and  hollows,  upon  which  a rickety  table  stood  un- 
easily and  as  though  there  were  a continual  contro- 
versy among  its  legs  as  to  which  should  help  sustain 
it ; for  one  of  them,  at  least,  always  refused  to  reach 
to  the  ground.  Benches  took  the  place  of  chairs  and 


Found 


219 


a bottle  in  a tin  holder,  with  a bit  of  cotton  wick- 
ing  in  it,  stood  upon  a shelf.  Several  small  articles 
of  little  value  hung  about  upon  the  walls,  and,  save 
these  poor  things,  there  was  no  other  furnishing. 

Several  small  rooms,  besides  the  kitchen,  were  ev- 
idently partitioned  off  in  the  rear,  and,  standing  in 
the  kitchen  with  her  back  toward  him,  was  a woman, 
old  or  young  he  could  not  clearly  see  in  the  obscur- 
ity, yet  the  outline  of  whose  figure  caused  his  heart 
to  thump  in  his  bosom. 

At  this  instant  she  turned,  as  he  s poke  in  reply  to 
a question  of  his  mother.  “ Yes,”  he  replied,  to  the 
questioner,  “I  am  peddling,  but  only  books.” 

His  mother  gave  a half-sigh  of  disappointment.  “ I 
was  a-hoping  one  of  those  Turks  would  pass  this 
way  soon,”  she  said.  “We  have  no  money  to  buy 
books  and  there  couldn’t  none  of  us  read  ’em  if  we 
bought  ’em,  but  I’m  needing  some  cotton-goods  for 
the  girls.” 

Horacio  still  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  passage-way 
that  led  out  to  the  kitchen,  but  the  woman  had  dis- 
appeared. “ I am  sorry,”  he  answered  his  mother, 
absently,  “ but  I have  only  books.” 

The  old  man  now  entered  and  sat  down  upon  a 
bench.  Horacio  wondered  where  his  two  brothers 
were.  Perhaps  they  were  not  living — he  remember- 
ed the  disaster  which  had  swept  the  family  from 
their  home. 

“You  are  not  well,  sir?”  he  enquired  of  his  host, 
to  make  conversation. 

“ No,  I can’t  say  as  I enjoy  very  good  health  here. 


220 


Horacio 


We  seem  to  have  settled  in  a right  unhealthy  spot. 
When  one  of  us  aint  down  with  the  maleita,  anoth- 
er is,  and  mostly  we  have  it  all  the  time.  See  these 
arms,  young  man  ! When  I came  here  there  was 
no  man  hereabouts  could  show  a likelier  arm,  nor 
stick  by  the  hoe  as  long,  and  now — look  at  them  ! ” 
and  he  rolled  up  his  sleeves  to  display  his  meager 
and  shrunken  members. 

“And  isn’t  the  land  good  for  crops,  either?”  ask- 
ed his  son,  with  growing  pity. 

“ Good  ? None  better  ! This  land  is  as  rich  as  one 
could  wish ; but  what  can  you  do  without  arms  to 
till  it,  and  sick  all  the  time  ? Arms  are  mighty  scarce 
in  these  parts.  They  all  go  to  the  big  fazendas  near- 
the  City  and  we  sertanejos  must  do  our  own  work. 
That’s  all  right  for  them  as  has  families,  but  them 
that  hasn’t  must  rot  like  fallen  timbers  on  the  soil 
and  at  last  mix  with  it,”  and  he  looked  sadly  about 
the  place. 

“But  have  you  no  one  to  help  you,  sir?”  asked 
Horacio,  dreading  the  reply. 

“No,  I haint  no  one,”  was  the  answer,  “ — that  is, 
I have  two  boys,”—  Horacio’s  heart  bounded — “ fine 
boys,  too,  but  they  might  as  well  not  be  mine,  for 
all  the  good  they  do  me.” 

“ How  is  that  ? ” asked  his  son,  wonderingly. 

“ Oh,  it’s  a long  story,”  responded  the  old  man, 
and  I don't  know  as  it’s  worth  the  telling,”  — then, 
encouraged  by  the  show  of  interest,  for  even  those 
who  have  outlived  most  of  the  storms  of  life  do  not 
outlive  the  mild  frailty  of  responding  to  this  sort  of 


Found 


221 


subtle  flattery — “ you  see,  I had  a fine  little  place 
over  nigh  Jahu,  as  I said,  but  my  other  son  got  mix- 
ed up  in  some  trouble  and  his  enemies  fixed  them- 
selves up  like  Injuns  one  night  and  came  over  and 
burned  us  out.  Only  for  the  fact  that  we  was  warn- 
ed, we  would  have  been  burnt  in  our  beds  or  shot 
down  as  we  run  out,  for  we  lay  hidden  in  the  brush 
and  heard  ’em  a-talking. 

“ Seems  as  though  they  thought  we  was  burned 
with  the  house,  for  they  never  troubled  to  follow  us. 
They  killed  my  oxen  and  stole  what  they  wanted, 
and  all  we  got  away  with  was  the  bit  of  stuff  we 
could  put  on  the  horses,  so  we  came  over  here  and 
settled  down  where  no  one  knew  us.  I bought  this 
bit  of  land  from  Sor  Andre,  who  lives  two  leagues 
farther  on  along  this  road.  He’s  the  richest  man  in 
all  this  country — but  he’s  hard  ! Yes,  he’s  hard — 
not  to  say  something  worse — but  then  I suppose  I 
have  no  cause  to  complain. 

“I  was  a stranger  and  I give  him  some  money, 
and  papers  instead  of  the  balance,  for  his  land ; and 
then  I left  the  boys,  taking  what  cash  I had  remain- 
in’, and  bought  some  things  I needed — tools  and  the 
like.  Then  we  all  fell  to  and  made  the  clearin’  and 
put  up  this  temporary  house,  thinkin’  to  better  it  la- 
ter on.  Then  we  began  getting  sick  and  it’s  been  the 
same  old  story  ever  since.  When  the  time  came  to 
make  the  payments  I couldn’t  do  much  of  anything,” 
and  the  old  man  leaned  forward  and  stared  at  the 
floor,  shaking  his  head  wearily. 

“ So  the  interest  grew,”  he  went  on,  at  length, 


222 


Horacio 


“ and  then  there  was  interest  on  interest,  and,  do  all 
I could,  the  payments  I made  him  were  small.  So 
at  last  he  took  the  boys  over  to  work  on  his  place, 
to  keep  the  interest  down.  He  only  allows  them 
nine  hundred  reis  a day  and  gives  them  a place  to 
sleep  and  a part  of  what  they  need  to  eat.  I fur- 
nish the  rest.  He  keeps  their  wages  to  apply  on 
the  interest.” 

“ How  long  have  they  been  there,  now  ? ” asked 
their  brother,  with  all  the  indifference  he  could  as- 
sume. 

“ Let  me  see ! It  is  going  on  two  years,  now,” 
his  father  answered.  “ Seems  like,  with  all  I have 
paid,  that  I ought  to  get  ahead  on  what  I owed,  but 
it  is  still  bigger  than  it  was  at  first.” 

“May  I ask  what  interest  you  are  paying?”  sa'd 
Horacio. 

“ Why  not  ? It  is  two  per  cent,  a month.” 

“That  is  a good  deal.  Was  the  amount  great  that 
you  owed  him  ? ” 

“ No,  not  very  large.  It  was  four  hundred  milreis. 
You  see,  I bought  one  hundred  alqueires  at  ten  mil- 
reis the  alqueire,  and  I gave  him  six  hundred  milreis 
that  I had  from  my  brother,  who  died  a year  or  so 
before  we  come  here — the  rest  of  what  I had  I used 
in  stockin’  the  place.  But  stay—  I’ll  show  you  the 
papers ! ” 

With  that  open  frankness  common  to  country-bred 
people  everywhere,  the  old  man  went  to  a box  in 
which  he  kept  some  odds  and  ends  along  with  the 
papers,  and,  fumbling  them  over,  brought  forth  some 


Found 


223 


soiled  and  worn  documents  for  his  son’s  inspection. 

“ I cannot  read,”  he  said,  “ but  I pretty  near  know 
them  by  heart, — I have  had  them  read  to  me  so 
many  times.” 

Horacio  read  the  papers  with  great  care  and  found 
them  in  proper  form,  as  nearly  as  his  good  sense 
could  determine.  On  the  back  of  the  contract  were 
endorsed  the  payments,  each  receipt  being  accom- 
panied by  the  proper  revenue-stamp.  Reading  aloud 
to  the  old  man  the  amounts  and  dates  of  payment, 
all  appeared  to  be  perfectly  correct. 

“ What  are  wages  worth,  for  farm-hands,  herea- 
bouts?” he  asked,  when  he  had  completed  his  ex- 
amination of  the  papers. 

“ Oh,  two  mil  five  and  keep,  generally,”  replied 
his  father. 

“ Are  your  sons  large  and  strong,  and  good  work- 
ers ? ” enquired  Horacio,  beginning  to  see  light. 

“ That  they  be — none  better  ! But  Sor  Andre  says 
he  has  to  keep  them  the  whole  year  round  and  that 
makes  a difference ; but  I wish  they  might  come  to 
me  during  the  slack  times  over  to  his  place,  that  he 
talks  so  much  about.” 

“Then— let  me  see!  — three  hundred  and  thirteen 
days  for  the  year,  not  counting  Sundays,  although  I 
suppose  they  work  Sundays  the  same  as  other  days — 
no  ? ” and  he  glanced  enquiringly  at  his  father.  The 
old  man  nodded,  affirmatively.  “ Well,  never  mind 
the  Sundays  ! Three  hundred  and  thirteen  by  two 
men  for  two  years  makes  four  times  three  hundred 
and  thirteen,  or  twelve  hundred  and  fifty-two,  times 


224 


Horacio 


nine  hundred  reis  would  make  one  conto  and  one 
hundred  and  twenty-six  mil  eight  hundred  reis.  Now 
we  shall  add  to  that  amount  one  conto  six  hundred 
milreis  you  have  paid  in  cash,  as  credited  here  on 
the  back  of  the  papers,  and  that  makes  about  seven 
times  what  you  owed  him  originally,  and  all  this  for 
interest,  because  he  claims  that  you  still  owe  him 
more  than  the  original  amount.  In  addition,  you  say 
that  the  wages  are  worth  at  least  three  times  as  much 
as  he  is  allowing  the  boys.  In  other  words,  you 
have  paid  your  debt  and  he  owes  you  a nice  bit  of 
money  besides.” 

The  old  man  gazed  at  his  son  with  puzzled  eyes, 
unable  to  take  in  the  full  significance  of  such  a rev- 
elation. “ Sobre  teres  e haveres  movem-se  muitas 
demandas,”  he  finally  philosophized.  “It  may  be  as 
you  say,  young  man,  but  might  is  right  here,  if  in- 
deed it  be  as  you  say.  What  can  I do  ? He  will 
take  the  land  and  turn  us  out,  and  I have  not  a vin- 
tem  with  which  to  begin  life  elsewhere.  This  is  what 
the  contract  says  ! Read  it  and  you  will  see  that  I 
have  already  forfeited  the  place  and  it  is  only  through 
his  forbearance  that  I remain  here.” 

“ Humph  ! ” ejaculated  the  young  man ; “ a profit- 
able forbearance  for  him  ! but  from  what  little  I have 
learned  at  school,  I judge  that  his  accepting  your 
money,  without  taking  advantage  of  the  first  delays 
in  your  payment,  constitutes  a full  renewal  of  your 
contract.” 

“ Ah,  you  do  not  know  our  people  here.  You  are 
from  the  City,  I take  it?  Sor  Andre  does  not  mind 


Found 


225 


small  irregularities.  If  I protest,  he  will  send  his  ea- 
pangas  to  burn  the  house  over  me.  No,  — he  must 
have  his  will.  Alas, — I do  not  know  what  will  come 
of  it ! It  is  true  there  is  a way,  but  I do  not  know 
whether  even  that  will  suffice.  All  this  is  come  up- 
on me  because  of  that  wild  son  of  mine  who  med- 
dled with  the  affairs  of  his  betters  and  in  what  did 
not  concern  him.  Oft  have  I been  minded  to  curse 
him  for  the  evil  he  has  wrought ! ” 

The  words  which  Horacio  had  been  about  to  speak 
died  on  bis  lips  at  the  old  man’s  bitter  tone.  A light 
step  was  at  the  door  and  a young  woman,  who  might 
have  been  any  age  from  twenty  to  thirty,  brought  a 
cloth  and  spread  it  on  the  unstable  piece  of  furni- 
ture which  did  duty  as  a table  and  which  was  never 
at  rest  upon  the  uneven  floor.  The  old  man  gather- 
ed his  papers  and  put  them  away.  The  young  wom- 
an did  not  look  at  Horacio,  but,  in  spite  of  the  as- 
pect of  her  face,  which  was  haggard  and  wan,  and 
the  languor  of  her  movements,  brought  on  by  ill- 
health,  he  caught  a glimpse  of  her  great  dark  eyes 
and  knew  that  it  was  Anna. 

“ Good  evening  ! ” he  said,  hesitatingly. 

“ Good  evening,  sir ! ” she  replied,  and  extended  a 
limp  and  reluctant  hand,  which  she  released  again  as 
quickly  as  she  could  from  his  warm  and  hearty  grasp 
and  left  the  room.  His  sisters  completed  the  serving 
of  the  meal,  and,  when  it  was  ready,  father  and  son 
sat  down  together  to  the  humble  fare. 

Almost  immediately  afterwards  the  women  arranged 
a husk  mattress,  with  a sheet  and  a bit  of  blanket, 


226 


Horacio 


on  a homemade  bedstead  in  an  inner  room,  and  bade 
their  guest  choose  his  own  hour  for  retiring. 

The  two  men  sat  together  for  some  time  in  aimless 
conversation,  the  old  man  enjoying  this  little  glimpse 
of  the  outside  world,  while  the  young  man  answered 
absently  as  he  turned  his  thoughts  over  and  over  in 
his  mind,  about  one  central  axis.  At  last  he  arose 
and  went  out  under  the  stars  and  strolled  about  the 
curral,  thinking  of  what  he  should  do. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a light  step  beside  him  and  a 
hand  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

“Horacio!”  said  a well-remembered  voice,  softly; 
“ here  is  the  package  you  left  in  my  care.” 

Horacio  turned  in  wonder  at  the  sound  of  his  name, 
and  caught  the  hand  that  held  the  package. 

“Anna!”  he  cried,  “what  is  this?” 

“ Let  me  be  ! ” she  answered,  coldly,  but  he  would 
not  let  her  go,  although  she  struggled  for  her  liberty. 

“ Not  until  you  answer  my  questions.  Will  you 
promise  ? ” 

“Yes,”  she  said,  in  the  same  tone  as  before,  “I 
will  answer  your  questions.  You  have  the  right 
to  ask.” 

“ What  is  this  in  the  package  ? ” he  asked,  releas- 
ing her  hand. 

“ ’ Tis  the  little  hoard  of  your  savings  which  you 
left  hidden  in  the  house  where  only  you  and  I knew 
the  place.” 

“ I had  supposed  it  burned  with  the  house  ! And 
so  you  kept  it  all  these  years,  when  in  such  dire 
need  ? Why  did  you  not  give  it  to  my  father  ? ” 


Found 


227 


“It  was  yours,”  she  said,  simply.  Her  loyalty 
touched  him. 

“ Anna,”  he  said,  with  broken  voice,  “ I have  mourn- 
thee  all  these  years.” 

“ You  never  came,”  she  answered,  coldly,  and  mov- 
ed away  from  him  as  though  she  would  leave  him ; 
“—you,  a hunter,  not  to  find  us ! ” 

There  was  reproach  in  her  voice  and  he  was  glad  to 
be  able  to  answer  frankly  : “ Anna  ! They  conscript- 
ed me  by  force  the  next  day,  at  Brotas,  and  it  was 
only  after  nearly  four  years  of  service  that  I could 
return,  to  find  the  ruins  of  the  house  and  learn  that 
you  had  all  been  slain  by  the  bugres.  Do  not  re- 
proach me  ! How  could  I do  otherwise  ? ” 

The  constraint  in  the  girl’s  manner  lifted  for  a mo- 
ment— then  the  old  cloud  fell  across  her  face.  He 
caught  at  her  hand,  but  she  held  it  resolutely  be- 
hind her  back. 

“ Anna  ! ” he  cried,  again,  “ why  dost  thou  remain 
indifferent  ? I have  explained  what  must  have  seem- 
ed cruel  and  heartless.  Hast  thou  not  forgiven  ? ” 

“ I forgave  thee  then,”  she  answered,  gently,  “ al- 
though I could  not  understand.  But  it  is  too  late 
now ! I am  going  away  to-morrow.”  She  did  not 
say  what  was  too  late,  but  her  voice  was  unutterably 
sad. 

“ Going  away  ! Where  ? ” 

“ I am  going  to  marry  Sor  Andre.” 

Horacio  staggered  as  though  stunned  with  a blow. 
His  newly-revived  hopes  began  to  be  dissipated  like 
a dream.  But,  no  — he  would  not  find  Anna  just  to 


228 


Horacio 


lose  her  : he  would  protest : he  would  cry  out  against 
it : she  could  not  wish  him  to  do  otherwise. 

“ I came  in  good  time ! ” he  cried,  firmly.  “ Thou 
shalt  never  marry  him  ! I will  not  have  it  so  !” 

“ I must,”  she  answered,  simply. 

“ Dost  thou  wish  to  do  so  ? ” he  asked,  coldly. 

“ Do  not  ask  me  that.  Thou  hast  no  right.” 

“ I have  a right ! Dost  thou  not  owe  me  that 
much  ? ” 

“ Do  not  remind  me  of  my  debt  to  thee.  It  is  not 
generous.” 

“ That  is  true.  Forgive  me,”  he  said,  with  self-re- 
proach, “but  tell  me,  Anna,  dost  thou — dost  thou — 
love  him  ? ” 

The  girl  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a moment  and 
then  turned  again  to  flee  from  him.  Suddenly  a 
thought  struck  Horacio. 

“ Is  it  because  of  that  miserable  contract?  ” he  cried, 
impetuously.  “You  do  it  to  cancel  the  debt?” 

The  girl’s  face  was  telltale  in  spite  of  the  darkness. 
She  tried  to  flee  but  he  ran  after  her  and  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

“ Anna,  I say  thou  shalt  not  marry  him  ! Thou 
dost  not  love  him  ! ” 

“ Let  me  go  ! Let  me  go  ! ” she  cried,  as  she 
struggled  to  be  free. 

“Wilt  thou  listen  to  me  if  I let  thee  go?”  he  ask- 
ed, sternly. 

“ Yes,”  she  gasped,  with  a sob  in  her  voice,  “I  shall 
listen.” 

“ Anna,  didst  thou  suppose  that  I could  desert  my 


Found 


229 


father,  now  that  I have  found  him  ? ” 

“ I did  not  know,”  she  answered,  hesitatingly.  “ I 
was  afraid  — that  is  — when  thou  didst  not  reveal 
thyself ” 

“ I see.  It  was  wrong.  I do  not  know  what  pos- 
sessed me.  At  first  I did  not  know  him  and  I needed 
time  to  think,  but  I shall  ask  his  forgiveness,  and  I 
shall  not  desert  him.  I have  a plan  which  I have 
been  turning  in  my  head  all  the  evening : there  only 
lacks  one  element  to  ensure  success,  and  perhaps  we 
may  risk  it.  To-night  I shall  not  speak,  for  he  has 
already  retired.  Meanwhile, —let  me  see  ! Anna, — 
wilt  thou  do  as  I bid  thee  ? I promise  that  I will 
care  for  my  father  : wilt  thou  obey  me  ? ” 

The  girl  hesitated  for  a moment  and  then  said, 
thoughtfully  : “ Thou  art  not  the  same  Horacio.  Thou 
art  changed.  Thy  very  language  and  manner  of 
speaking  are  different.  Thou  hast  the  air  of  the 
City.  How  can  I tell  ? ” 

“How  didst  thou  know  me  when  I came?” 

The  girl  laughed,  mischievously.  “ How,  indeed  ? 
How  could  I help  knowing  thee  ? ” She  did  not  re- 
alize how  much  she  was  conceding. 

“Then,  if  thou  knewest  me  when  my  own  mother 
and  father  did  not  know  me,  I must  be  the  same 
Horacio.  Wilt  thou  promise  ? ” 

“Thy  mother  did  know  thee,”  she  said,  to  gain 
time.  “ When  she  came  to  the  kitchen,  she  looked 
at  me  and  our  lips  formed  the  same  word.  Then  a 
tear  stole  down  her  cheek.” 

“ Poor  mother ! ” said  the  young  man,  and  a shade 


230 


Horacio 


of  sadness  crept  into  his  voice.  “ I shall  not  keep 
her  waiting  long.  Come,  Anna ; wilt  thou  promise 
to  do  as  I direct  thee?” 

“Yes,”  she  answered,  at  last.  Horacio  then  reveal- 
ed his  plan,  in  rapid  words. 

“ Good-night ! ” he  said,  finally.  “ Permit  me  now 
as  a brother  to  embrace  thee.  We  shall  meet  again.” 

He  put  his  arms  about  her  and  kissed  her  on  both 
cheeks,  but  thought  that  she  was  not  pleased.  Nev- 
ertheless, he  pressed  her  hand  again,  and  turned  a- 
way  toward  the  house. 

Having  hastily  written  a note  by  the  light  of  the 
little  flickering  lamp  which  hung  against  the  wall, 
he  laid  it  upon  the  doorstep,  and  when  he  looked  a- 
gain,  it  was  gone. 


13 

FIRE  WITH  FIRE. 


0 R a long  time  that  night,  as  he 
lay  on  his  bed,  whose  husks  rat- 
tled uneasily  as  he  turned  from 
side  to  side,  Horacio  courted  sleep 
in  vain.  One  wild  plan  chased  an- 
other through  his  troubled  brain 
until  he  finally  fell  asleep  of  sheer 

fatigue. 

He  was  awakened  by  the  rapid  patter  of  pacing 
hoofs,  approaching  the  door.  The  sun  had  long  since 
crept  above  the  horizon  and  the  family  was  stirring 
about  the  house.  He  heard  a masterful  voice  greet 
his  father  from  the  gate  of  the  little  curral.  Rising 
from  his  bed  he  put  on  the  remainder  of  his  cloth- 
ing and  went  out  into  the  sala.  His  father  had  al- 
ready left  the  house  and  was  leaning  over  the  gate, 
talking  with  a man  on  horseback,  who  held  by  the 
bridle-rein  another  animal,  bearing  a woman’s  saddle. 


232 


Horacio 


The  young  man  stepped  to  the  doorway  in  order 
that  he  might  have  a better  look  at  the  stranger, 
and  began  the  inspection  with  the  horse,  as  any  ex- 
cavalryman should  do.  The  beast  was  a noble  crea- 
ture who  arched  his  proud  neck  and  shifted  uneasily 
about  under  the  restraining  hand  of  his  rider.  A 
handsome  saddle,  mounted  with  silver,  matched  the 
luxurious  bridle  and  was  overlaid  with  the  skin  of 
some  animal,  upon  which  sat  negligently  but  securely 
a finely-formed  man  of  about  forty-five.  His  swarthy 
skin  betokened  some  admixture  of  African  or  Indian 
blood,  while  the  coarse  black  hair  which  showed  be- 
neath his  fine  hat,  bore  witness  to  the  same. 

All  this  Horacio  took  in  at  a glance,  as  well  as  the 
short  repeating-rifle  which  lay  across  the  saddle  in 
front  of  him— -a  weapon  sufficiently  uncommon  in  the 
hands  of  a Brazilian  to  attract  attention  at  any  time, 
and  especially  from  Horacio,  but  it  was  upon  the 
man’s  eyes  that  his  glance  lingered  longest.  Black, 
cruel,  daring,  but  cowardly  eyes  they  were,  and  re- 
vealed the  soul  almost  agressively. 

An  earnest  discussion  was  evidently  taking  place. 
Finally  the  man  dismounted  and,  tying  his  horses  to 
a strong  post,  entered  the  gate  and  approached  the 
house  with  the  old  man  shambling  along  at  his  side. 

“Sor  Andre  dos  Campos — what  is  your  grace?  — I 
forgot  to  ask,”  said  the  latter,  turning  toward  his 
guest  as  he  waved  his  hand  from  one  to  the  other 
in  presentation. 

“My  name  is  Horacio, — your  servant,”  the  young 
man  replied,  simply,  and,  controlling  his  repugnance, 


Fire  with  Fire 


233 


shook  the  proffered  hand. 

The  old  man  started  slightly  as  he  heard  the  name 
which  the  young  man  gave,  and  looked  at  him  sharp- 
ly for  an  instant.  At  the  same  moment  he  was  un- 
dergoing a piercing  scrutiny  from  the  black  eyes  of 
the  local  magnate,  who  wondered  at  his  presence  in 
the  neighborhood.  As  it  was  common  custom  to  give 
only  one’s  baptismal  name,  no  special  notice  was  ta- 
ken of  Horacio’s  failure  to  mention  his  surname. 

Striving  not  to  appear  to  notice  the  dual  inspection, 
he  made  some  trivial  remark  on  some  common-place 
subject,  and  the  old  man  took  his  eyes  from  him  and 
turned  toward  the  door  near  which  they  had  been 
standing. 

“ Sinha ! ” he  called,  toward  the  interior  of  the 
house,  and,  as  his  wife  appeared  in  the  kitchen-door- 
way,  he  added : “ Here  is  Sor  Andre.  Send  Anna  ! ” 

His  wife  came  forward  slowly,  wiping  her  hands 
on  her  skirt.  “ Good  mornin’,  Sor  Andre  ! How  have 
you  passed  ? ” she  said,  giving  her  hand  to  the  rich 
fazendeiro.  “ Anna  is  not  here.  I do  not  know 
where  she  is.  I went  to  her  room  a moment  ago, 
but  her  bed  had  not  been  slept  in.  Likely  she  is  in 
the  roga.” 

“What  jugglery  is  this?”  cried  the  dark  man,  an- 
grily. “Would  she  spend  the  night  in  the  roga? 
No!  She  knew  I was  -coming  to  fetch  her  and  you 
have  put  up  some  trick  between  you  to  hide  her. 
But,  take  care  ! My  patience  has  not  callouses.” 

“ I assure  you,  Sor  Andre,  I know  nothing  of  her,” 
said  the  old  man,  piteously.  “ ’ Twas  only  yesterday 


234 


Horacio 


she  said  she  was  ready  to  go  with  you,  and  I have 
not  heard  a word  since.” 

“ Don’t  come  to  me  with  your  pack  of  lies  ! ” re- 
torted the  fazendeiro,  brutally.  “ Go  find  the  girl  this 
instant  or  I shall  have  no  more  words  with  you ! 
Off  you  go — bag  and  baggage — this  very  day ! There 
are  limits ! ” 

The  old  man  turned  to  his  wife  with  trembling  lip 
and  anxious  mien.  “ Send  the  girls  to  hunt  her, 
sinha,”  he  said,  in  a broken  voice.  “ Surely  she  can- 
not be  far  away.  She  was  here  when  I went  to  bed 
last  night.” 

The  woman  turned  to  do  his  bidding,  but  halted 
at  the  sound  of  Horacio’s  voice. 

“You  will  not  find  her,”  he  said,  quietly,  to  his 
mother,  and  thought  that  a faint  flash  of  relief  flitted 
across  her  impassive  countenance. 

“ What  in  the  name  of  a thousand  demons  have 
you  got  to  do  with  it  ? ” shouted  the  fazendeiro. 
“Who  is  this  fellow?” — turning  to  the  old  man. 

“Sir, — what  do  you  know  of  her?”  enquired  the 
old  man,  anxiously,  of  his  son,  disregarding  his  land- 
lord’s question. 

Without  stopping  to  think,  Horacio  said,  calmly, 
“ She  is  far  away,  on  the  road  to  the  City,  as  fast  as 
my  horse  can  carry  her,”  and  instantly  repented  his 
indiscretion.  The  fazendeiro’s  face  immediately  light- 
ened. 

“Well,”  he  said,  “I  don’t  know  why  you  are  mix- 
ing in  this  affair  nor  what  you  hope  to  get  out  of  it, 
but  that  we  shall  settle  afterwards.  Pinhal,  there, 


Fire  with  Fire 


235 


will  bring  me  up  with  her  in  a very  short  time,  I 
fancy,  and  we  shall  have  an  end  of  this  nonsense. 
There  are  two  roads  to  the  City,  and  that  which  she 
has  taken  will  show  the  prints  of  your  horse’s  feet — 
chivalrous  young  meddler ! So  long ! ” and  he  turn- 
ed away. 

Horacio  sprang  forward  and  caught  him  by  the  arm. 
The  fazendeiro  turned  and  drew  a long,  silver-mount- 
ed knife  from  its  sheath.  The  women  screamed  and 
the  mother  took  a quick  step  forward.  Horacio  was 
standing  with  folded  arms,  and  a calm  smile  was  on 
his  face.  His  coolness  disarmed  the  wrath  of  his  op- 
ponent for  an  instant. 

“You  will  not  follow  her  !”  said  the  young  man, 
firmly.  “ Do  you  wish  to  know  why  ? This  is  why. 
See  yon  bird,”  and  he  pointed  dramatically  to  a small 
hawk  on  a distant  tree-top.  All  turned  their  heads 
in  surprise  to  look,  and,  improving  this  opportunity, 
he  reached  quickly  forward  and  snatched  the  rifle 
from  the  astonished  fazendeiro. 

Now  it  was  that  he  marked  the  measure  of  his  man, 
for  the  fellow,  at  sight  of  the  weapon  in  the  hands 
of  his  adversary,  betrayed  every  symptom  of  arrant 
cowardice.  His  color  fled  and  left  him  like  chalk, 
while  the  keen  knife  fell  from  his  trembling  hand  as 
he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Horacio,  unable  to  take  them 
from  the  stern  young  face. 

Without  giving  heed  to  the  dismay  which  he  had 
caused,  the  hunter  raised  his  arm,  and,  with  joy  in 
his  heart  as  the  weapon  came  to  rest  against  his 
shoulder  and  his  keen  eye  glanced  swiftly  along  its 


236 


Horacio 


sights,  he  pulled  the  trigger.  A flash — a report,  and 
all  eyes  followed  his  gesture. 

“ See  there  ! ” he  cried.  “ Coitado  ! He  never 
knew  what  struck  him.” 

From  the  distant  tree-top  a few  feathers  floated 
away  on  the  light  breeze  and  the  hawk’s  mutilated 
body  fell  vertically  to  the  earth. 

“No  one  can  shoot  like  that  save  my  son — my 
Horacio ! ” cried  the  old  man,  in  amazed  uncertainty. 

“ Horacio  ! ” cried  his  mother,  unable  any  longer  to 
restrain  herself,  and  burying  her  head  on  his  shoul- 
der. 

Sor  Andre  was  greatly  astonished  at  this  little  drama 
and  looked  on  in  mingled  perplexity  and  dissatisfac- 
tion. When  the  mother  had  liberated  her  son  it  was 
the  father’s  turn  to  clasp  him  in  a tender  embrace  : 
then  the  lad  turned  to  the  fazendeiro  and  handed 
him  back  his  gun. 

“Sor  Andre,”  he  said,  “you  have  oppressed  and 
defrauded  my  father  too  long.  He  is  an  old  man 
and  cannot  claim  his  rights.  Last  night,  by  chance, 
I happened  here  and  discovered  that  those  whom  I 
had  thought  long  since  dead,  are  still  alive.  I am 
here  now,  and  I shall  claim  my  father’s  rights  for 
him.  By  the  papers  which  he  showed  me,  when  he 
did  not  yet  know  that  I was  his  son,  I find  that  your 
little  scheme  is  one  that  will  not  bear  investigation 
beyond  the  sertao.  You  are  mighty,  here — no  doubt — 
but,  I warn  you  : do  not  trifle  with  me  ! I have  been 
a soldier,  and  before  I was  a soldier  I had  been  a 
hunter.  I fear  you  not,  and  I never  miss  my  mark. 


Fire  with  Fire 


237 


I could  have  slain  you  now,  but  forbore.  Why 
should  I not  slay  you?  What  use  are  you  to  any- 
body but  yourself?  Begone!  lest  I change  my  mind. 
But  mark  my  words  and  mark  them  well  ! 1 hold 

you  responsible  with  your  life  for  each  of  theirs.  I 
shall  expect  my  brothers  here  this  afternoon  with 
wages — with  their  just  wages — do  you  understand  ? 
And  as  for  this  property — it  is  my  father’s,  as  you 
very  well  know  ! ” 

Saying  this  he  turned  his  back  and,  without  a 
glance  at  the  abashed  bully,  entered  the  house.  Only 
the  moral  effect  of  his  courage  kept  him  from  being 
shot  down  in  his  tracks  by  the  irate  scamp  outside. 
A moment  later  he  heard  the  sound  of  a retreating 
gallop  and  his  quick  ear  told  him  that  it  was  not  on 
the  road  to  the  City. 

“Fear  is  the  best  watchman,”  he  remarked,  sen- 
tentiously,  in  answer  to  his  parents’  doubts. 

It  was  a happy  moment  for  them  when,  in  the 
hour  of  their  direst  need,  they  found  a supporter  in 
the  son  who  had  been  lost  to  them  for  so  many 
years.  Scarcely  could  they  leave  him  an  instant  or 
take  their  eyes  off  his  handsome  face. 

“How  thou  hast  grown,  my  Horacio  ! Thou  art 
not  the  same  Horacio,”  cried  his  mother,  in  perplex- 
ity, holding  him  off  at  arm’s  length,  while  the  two 
girls  clung  to  either  elbow. 

“ Yes,  I am  the  same  Horacio,”  he  answered,  laugh- 
ing. “ Forgive  me  that  I did  not  reveal  myself  sooner.” 

“ I knew  thee,”  his  mother  answered,  simply. 

“ Thou  knewest  him  and  yet  saidst  nothing,  sinha  ? ” 


238 


Horacio 


queried  the  old  man,  in  puzzled  bewilderment. 

“Yes,  she  knew  me,  my  father,”  said  Horacio,  “and 
so  did  Anna.  That  is  why  I sent  Anna  away— be- 
cause of  Sor  Andre,  you  know.” 

“ I begin  to  understand,”  replied  the  old  man,  “but 
tell  us  all  about  it,  for  my  head  goes  around.  Shall 
I have  your  brothers  back  again  ? What  shall  we  do 
with  Sor  Andre’s  enmity  ? Where  hast  thou  been 
and  why  didst  thou  not  come  to  us  long  ago  ? So 
this  is  why  I knew  the  horse  ! See  what  I have  for 
thee,”  and,  without  waiting  for  answers  to  his  ques- 
tions, he  hurried  to  his  room  and  brought  a long 
bundle  of  rags  which  he  quickly  unrolled  before  his 
son’s  wondering  eyes. 

“ My  rifle ! ” cried  the  young  man,  at  last,  with  a 
gasp  of  pleasure,  and  hugging  it  to  his  bosom  not- 
withstanding the  abundant  grease  with  which  it  was 
covered. 

“He  has  kept  it  clean  all  these  years,”  said  his 
mother,  proudly. 

“ And  let  no  one  use  it,”  added  his  father.  “ See, 
here  are  cartridges,  also  ! ” 

Horacio  turned  the  weapon  over  and  over,  wiped 
the  grease  from  it,  and  put  it  to  his  shoulder. 

“ Hast  thou  a horse  to  spare,  my  father  ? ” he  ask- 
ed, suddenly.  “ If  there  is  an  extra  horse  here,  I 
shall  reserve  my  story  for  by-and-by  and  take  a 
short  turn  down  the  road.” 

“ I have  a poor  sort  of  a beast  here.  He  is  scarce- 
ly a reasonable  excuse  for  a horse,  but  perhaps  he 
will  serve,”  and  he  led  the  way  to  the  stable. 


Fire  with  Fire 


239 


Horacio  shouldered  the  gun,  after  filling  the  mag- 
azine and  his  pockets  with  cartridges,  and  rode  off 
down  the  trail  in  the  direction  of  Sor  Andre’s  plan- 
tation, expecting  to  meet  his  brothers  on  the  way. 

Much  to  his  surprise  he  had  ridden  for  an  hour 
and  a half  without  encountering  anyone,  when  he 
came  to  a cross-roads  and  a cabin  of  thatch.  Here 
he  learned  that  a road  led  down  to  the  river  and 
noticed  that  the  hoof-prints  of  Sor  Andre’s  horse, 
which  he  had  been  following,  turned  off  and  follow- 
ed the  river-road. 

Instantly  he  divined  what  the  wealthy  fazendeiro 
had  planned  to  do,  and  turned  his  horse  also  toward 
the  river.  He  had  not  gone  a hundred  meters,  how- 
ever, when  he  checked  the  horse  and  turned  back. 

“What  use,’’  said  he  to  himself,  “ to  follow  a swift 
horse  with  an  old  crowbait  like  this  ? No,  no  ! It  is 
better  to  go  on  to  his  house  and  await  his  return. 
If  he  brings  Anna  with  him,  we  shall  square  accounts 
there.  If  he  misses  her,  as  is  more  than  likely,  be- 
cause of  the  long  start  she  had,  we  shall  settle  the 
other  score  and  be  off.” 

Spurring  his  nearly  worthless  steed,  he  jogged  a- 
lcng  toward  the  fazenda  and  soon  came  out  of  the 
forest  into  a long  open  stretch  of  corn  and  pumpkins 
which  led  down  to  a stream  upon  which  were  built 
the  various  houses  of  the  fazenda.  Upon  the  farth- 
er side  great  meadows,  or  invernadas,  stocked  with 
fat  cattle,  extended  to  the  distant  forest-line. 

Near  the  creek  a saw-mill  and  a flour-mill,  with 
other  necessary  concomitants  of  fazenda-life  in  the 


240 


Horacio 


sertao,  formed  a large  gathering  of  scattered  build- 
ings. From  the  meadow-lands  numerous  slender 
palms,  which  remained  after  the  ruthless  destruction 
of  the  rich  timber,  thrust  their  graceful  stems  and 
waving  crowns  up  into  the  morning  breeze,  before 
which  they  swayed  like  reeds.  Horacio  paused  a 
moment  in  keen  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  the 
scene,  then  slowly  descended  the  long  slope  toward 
the  house. 

At  the  gate  of  the  curral  a horseman  with  a great 
coiled  lariat  in  one  hand  and  his  whip  in  the  other, 
urged  on  with  word  and  gesture,  and  blows  of  lariat 
or  lash,  a bunch  of  cattle  that  were  crowding  through 
the  open  gate,  while  down  the  road  beyond  came 
galloping  a remnant  of  the  herd,  with  another  horse- 
man halloaing  after  them.  Horacio  knew  that  the 
man  at  the  gate  was  his  brother. 

“ Manoel ! ” he  cried. 

The  rider  turned  his  head  and  waved  his  hand  to 
indicate  that  he  would  shortly  return,  then  closed 
the  gate  after  the  cattle  and  dashed  up  the  slope  to 
aid  his  comrade.  In  another  moment  the  remaining 
cattle  came  hurrying  down  to  the  gate  which  Horacio 
threw  open  for  them  to  enter,  and  then  closed  be- 
hind them.  He  now  saw,  by  their  resemblance,  that 
the  two  vaqueiros  must  be  brothers,  yet  he  could 
not  be  sure  which  was  the  one  he  had  greeted  nor 
whether  he  had  greeted  him  aright. 

The  two  young  men  paused  at  the  gate  and  salut- 
ed him.  “ Good  morning ! How  are  you  ? Much 
obliged ! ” 


Fire  with  Fire 


241 


“Not  at  all,”  replied  their  brother.  “You  are 
Manoel  and  Jose  de  Castro,  are  you  not?” 

“ It  is  true,”  replied  one  of  them.  “ What  can  we 
do  for  you  ? ” 

“ I am  Horacio  de  Castro,  your  brother.  I have 
just  come  from  our  father’s.” 

“Horacio!”  cried  the  young  men,  in  unison.  “We 
thought  that  thou  wert  dead ! ” 

“ I am  not  dead,  but  very  much  alive,  as  you  see. 
But  I have  business  with  you  that  cannot  wait.  Come, 
— an  embrace  —and  explanations  afterwards ! ” 

The  brothers  approached,  and,  leaning  from  their 
saddles,  embraced  him  warmly. 

“ Is  Sor  Andre  here  ? ” asked  their  older  brother. 
“ No,”  answered  Jose,  with  a sudden  flush  as  he 
remembered  something.  “ He  has  gone  away  to  get 
mar  — that  is  — on  business.  He  will  not  be  back, 
probably,  until  night.” 

“ On  the  contrary,  you  may  expect  him  at  any  mo- 
ment. His  business  has  mischanced.”  The  younger 
men  glanced  at  each  other  intelligently. 

“Now,  I have  sharp  business  with  Sor  Andre.  I 
want  you  to  get  ready  to  go  with  me  at  once.” 

“ Virgem  Nossa  ! Ready  to  go  with  thee  ! Senhora 
do  Ceu  ! how  can  that  be  ? ” 

“Never  mind,  but  trust  me  and  waste  no  time  in 
words.  Fetch  me  a good  horse  and  I shall  leave 
this  food-for-ravens  here.  Be  quick,  now ! ” 

In  a few  moments  the  two  young  men  returned 
with  three  excellent  horses  and  their  own  few  be- 
longings. At  almost  the  same  moment  Sor  Andre 


242 


Horacio 


came  in  sight,  galloping  down  through  the  corn.  His 
beautiful  horse  was  flecked  with  foam  and  reeking 
with  sweat,  and  the  blackness  of  anger  and  disap- 
pointment lay  heavily  upon  his  evil  face  as  he  came 
in  sight  of  the  three  young  men  at  the  gate.  Ho- 
ratio's rifle  lay  across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle, 
ready  to  his  hand. 

“ That  is  my  horse  you  are  riding ! ” shouted  the 
fazendeiro,  without  saluting  him. 

“ I will  buy  it,”  he  replied,  calmly. 

“ And  I will  not  sell  it,”  retorted  the  man,  angrily. 
“ You  know  what  we  do  with  horse-thieves  herea- 
bouts? It’s  short  shrift  they  get!  Dismount  and 
turn  him  loose ! ” 

“ I am  trying  the  horse  to  see  if  I like  him,”  re- 
plied Horacio,  amiably,  and  touched  him  with  the 
spur,  causing  him  to  curvet  about.  “ I like  him,”  he 
added,  with  a smile,  “ and  you  will  be  glad  to  sell 
him  before  I am  through  with  you.  Don’t  do  that ! ” 
he  snapped  out,  as  the  fazendeiro  made  a movement 
to  raise  his  rifle.  “ I am  going  away  with  my  broth- 
ers. They  want  some  horses  and  the  balance  of  their 
wages.  You  can  take  the  value  of  these  three  out 
of  what  you  are  owing  them  and  call  the  balance  a 
conto.  Are  you  satisfied,  boys  ? ” 

The  two  young  men  gazed  at  one  another  in  as- 
tonishment. “ Oh,  yes,  we’re  satisfied,”  they  answer- 
ed, with  cheerful  alacrity. 

‘‘But  I’m  not  satisfied,  curse  you ! ” shouted  the 
rich  man,  with  a string  of  oaths.  “ This  is  blackmail 
and  robbery ! ” 


Fire  with  Fire 


243 


“ Tut,  tut ! Softly ! Those  are  not  pretty  names,” 
answered  his  tormenter,  with  a steely  glitter  in  his 
eye.  “ Where  is  my  cousin,  Anna  ? ” 

It  was  a random  shot  but  the  villain  paled.  Ho- 
racio  saw  it  and  his  heart  sank. 

“I  know  naught  of  your  cousin  and  I care  less,” 
replied  Sor  Andre.  “ Come, —what  is  it  you  will  have  ? 
You  are  three  against  one,  and  might  makes  right.” 

“ Nothing  truer ! ” said  his  opponent,  with  a forced 
laugh.  “You  ought  to  know!  How  is  he  for  ca- 
pangas  ? ” This  last  he  whispered  to  his  nearest 
brother. 

“ ’ Tis  a holy  day  and  they  are  all  away.  He  has 
only  kept  the  two  of  us  at  work.” 

“ Let  us  go  to  the  house,”  said  Horacio,  aloud. 
“ Maneco — open  the  gate  ! Sor  Andre,  will  you  have 
the  goodness  to  go  first  ? ” He  motioned  the  fazen- 
deiro  to  ride  on.  “ Jose  will  relieve  you  of  your  gun  : 
it  is  heavy  to  carry.”  His  brother  reached  out  and 
took  the  weapon,  which  was  surrendered  promptly, 
but  with  a muttered  curse. 

“ We  will  go  to  your  office.  Never  mind  the  cof- 
fee! Maneco  — go  ahead  of  Sor  Andre  to  open  the 
door ! ” 

As  they  approached  the  house  various  female  heads 
appeared  at  the  windows  to  gaze  curiously  at  the  lit- 
tle procession  and  then  turn  away  to  exchange  whis- 
pered surmises.  Possibly  the  nature  of  the  affair  was 
suspected — without  regret.  At  any  rate,  all  dismount- 
ed and  entered  the  office  of  Sor  Andre  without  see- 
ing any  other  signs  of  life  about  the  place. 


244 


Horacio 


“Now,  Sor  Andre,”  said  Horacio,  as  soon  as  they 
were  seated,  “ we  are  somewhat  pressed  for  time. 
We  have  gone  over  this  matter  once  before,  this  morn- 
ing—you  and  I — and  we  have  concluded  that  the 
debt  is  discharged  and  a balance  is  due  my  father 
and  brothers  of,  roughly  speaking,  about  the  value 
of  the  horses  and  a conto  of  reis.  If  this  is  satisfac- 
tory, please  be  so  good  as  to  acknowledge  the  dis- 
charge upon  this  document,”  and  he  drew  the  con- 
tract from  his  pocket  and  threw  it  on  the  table. 

The  fazendeiro  stamped  it  and  wrote  the  receipt. 
A strange  willingness  seemed  to  have  suddenly  taken 
possession  of  him.  Horacio  suspected  the  cause  but 
meant  to  make  it  serve  his  ends. 

“ Now  the  balance  due,  if  you  please  ! ” Sor  Andre 
turned  to  a small  safe  and  counted  out  the  money. 

“ Now,  boys, — give  him  receipts  in  full ! He  will 
not  begrudge  you  a couple  of  stamps.  What!  You 
cannot  write?  Then  hold  this  gun  a moment  — you, 
Maneco ! — and  I shall  write  it  for  you.  All  right ! 
Now  we  are  quits.  Adeus,  Sor  Andre ! Don’t  try 
any  tricks  or  you  will  be  sorry  for  it ! ” 

He  backed  toward  the  door  and  covered  his  broth- 
ers’ retreat.  “You  will  find  your  gun  at  the  edge 
of  the  wood,  beyond  the  corn,”  he  cried,  as  he  mount- 
ed, and  all  three  galloped  across  the  curral  and  down 
the  slope  to  the  creek.  Then  they  turned  their 
horses’  heads  towards  home. 

“ Why  did  he  turn  pale  when  I spoke  of  Anna  ? ” 
was  the  thought  of  which  Horacio  could  not  rid  him- 
self as  they  hurried  back  to  their  parents.  “What 


Fire  with  Fire 


245 


has  he  done  with  Anna  ? ” The  question  was  des- 
tined to  be  resolved  that  night. 

A little  more  than  an  hour  after  leaving  the  fazen- 
da of  Sor  Andre,  the  three  young  men  dashed  up  to 
their  father’s  door.  Horacio  had  partially  satisfied 
his  brothers’  curiosity  on  the  way,  and  was  resolved 
on  the  course  which  he  must  now  follow.  He  al- 
ready suspected  that  Sor  Andre  had  consented  to  his 
just  exaction  with  alacrity  in  the  hope  of  recovering 
in  full,  with  a seasoning  of  revenge.  A few  hours 
would  suffice  to  gather  in  his  faithful  capangas— -the 
instruments  of  his  many  lawless  acts-— and  those  who 
had  triumphed  for  the  moment  might  then  hope  to 
hear  from  him. 

There  was  practically  nothing  of  any  value  upon 
the  place  and  Horacio  was  determined  to  emigrate 
at  the  first  edge  of  the  night.  To  do  this  success- 
fully was  not  as  easy  as  would  at  first  sight  appear, 
and  would  require  some  little  maneuvering.  There 
were  before  them  several  days  of  journeying,  encum- 
bered by  women,  through  a country  that  would  not 
dare  to  succor  them  nor  could  hope  to  attempt  it 
successfully. 

It  was  now  three  o’clock,  and  after,  and  Sor  An- 
dre could  hardly  reach  them  ere  nightfall.  In  a few 
words  the  young  man  explained  the  situation,  hand- 
ed the  money  and  the  contract  to  his  father,  and  set 
them  all  to  work  getting  ready  for  the  exodus. 

“Do  not  destroy  that  contract,  my  father,”  he  said, 
“for  the  land  is  thine  now,  and  some  day  it  will  be 
worth  money.  Now,  let  us  get  together  what  we  can 


246 


Horacio 


take  with  us.  The  girls  and  mother  shall  ride  and 
the  rest  of  us  must  walk.  At  dark  we  must  leave 
the  house  shut-up — as  though  we  had  gone  to  bed— 
and  retire  with  the  horses  to  the  far  edge  of  the 
clearing.  The  pigs  and  chickens  we  must  leave  to 
the  hospitality  of  the  forest.  Let  us  turn  them  out 
or  they  will  perish  in  the  flames.” 

“ The  flames  ! What  flames  ? ” asked  his  sisters, 
at  the  same  instant. 

“You  will  see  when  the  time  comes.  ‘There  is  no 
egg  without  a hen.’  Run  along  and  get  your  duds 
together ! ” 

The  preparation  for  departure  went  on  rapidly, 
while  Horacio  or  one  of  his  brothers  kept  a sharp 
watch  on  the  road  but  saw  no  one  save  the  caboclo 
who  had  been  with  Horacio,  and  who  brought  them 
the  news  of  Father  Joao’s  death  and  thus  removed 
Horacio’s  last  scruple  in  carrying  out  his  plan. 

As  the  shadows  began  to  fall,  the  entire  family  and 
their  possessions  were  collected  in  the  center  of  a 
small  open  space  in  the  edge  of  the  forest,  beyond 
the  clearing,  while  Horacio  remained  in  hiding  near 
the  house. 

As  yet  the  family  could  not  see  why  he  delayed 
the  departure,  for  he  might  have  been  on  the  road 
these  three  hours  ago,  if  necessary.  They  were  soon 
to  see  what  was  the  explanation  of  his  conduct,  for 
they  had  not  been  in  hiding  much  more  than  an  hour 
before  they  heard  the  distant  approach  of  horses. 
As  it  drew  nearer,  the  sound  suddenly  ceased  and, 
presently,  one  of  the  boys  reported  that  a dozen  arm- 


Fire  with  Fire 


247 


ed  men  with  large  bundles  were  quietly  approaching 
on  foot  and  surrounding  the  house. 

They  could  get  no  further  news  of  their  movements 
for  some  time,  but  Horacio,  as  he  lay  in  hiding  close 
by,  saw  Sor  Andre  approach  him  in  company  with 
another  man  with  whom  he  was  in  earnest  conver- 
sation. Pretty  soon  the  men  began  to  place  their 
bundles  against  the  house  and  retire  again  to  the 
brush.  When  they  had  all  disappeared,  the  man 
who  was  with  Sor  Andre  brought  a can  of  oil  and 
visited  each  bundle,  pouring  what  was  left  upon  the 
doorstep.  He  then  returned  to  his  former  position 
near  Sor  Andre  and  both  men  made  ready  their  guns. 
Sor  Andre  himself  now  lit  a ball  of  cotton,  soaked 
with  oil,  and  cast  it  at  the  doorstep.  Instantly  the 
house  burst  into  a sheet  of  flame. 

“ Ready,  men  ! Let  them  have  it  when  they  run 
for  it ! Pull  them  out  of  the  flames  when  they  fall ! 
I’ll  save  my  money  if  I can,  but  the  festa  is  worth 
the  fiddler  in  any  case,”  he  shouted. 

All  the  men  now  rose  to  their  feet  and  chose  ad- 
vantageous positions.  The  fire  roared  and  lit  the 
scene  so  that  Horacio  must  have  been  discovered 
had  they  chanced  to  look  behind  them.  He  shudder- 
ed to  think  what  must  have  been  their  fate  had  they 
chosen  to  spend  another  night  in  the  house,  and  his 
finger  itched  as  it  rested  on  the  trigger  of  his  rifle. 
Scarcely  could  he  conquer  his  longing  to  draw  a 
bead  on  the  author  of  this  barbarity,  as  he  stood 
like  a silhouette  against  the  burning  house.  Wisdom 
and  his  religion  counselled  forbearance  and  he  slow- 


248  Horacio 


ly  wormed  his  way  back  into  the  shadow. 

“ Curse  them  ! I believe  they  have  skipped,”  shout- 
ed the  fazendeiro,  at  last,  as  the  roof  began  to  fall 
in  on  the  doubling  walls  and  the  place  gave  no  sign 
of  life.  “ Let  us  get  after  them  down  the  road ! 
They  have  fooled  us  again  and  we  have  had  all  our 
trouble  for  nothing.  At  any  rate,  I’m  square  with 
the  hussy-curse  her  ! The  Tiete  fixed  her  ! ” 

The  blow  fell  on  Horacio  with  stunning  force. 
Slowly  he  raised  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  glanc- 
ed along  the  sights  which  the  flickering  flames  illu- 
mined. For  the  fraction  of  a second  Sor  Andre  drew 
nearer  to  the  reward  of  his  evil  deeds  than  he  had 
ever  fared  before.  The  thought  of  the  dozen  armed 
capangas  who  would  be  left  to  fall  upon  his  helpless 
family,  and  the  memory  of  that  group  of  feeble  wom- 
en in  the  forest  yonder,  made  the  marksman  pause. 
In  another  moment  his  enemies  had  withdrawn  and 
were  hurrying  to  their  horses. 

Horacio  ran  back  to  the  little,  huddled  group  of 
refugees.  “ Muffle  the  horses  ! ” he  cried.  “ Cover 
their  ears,  eyes  and  nostrils ; only  give  them  air  to 
breathe ; or  they  will  betray  us.” 

Personally  he  superintended  the  work,  and  then 
all  kept  quiet  while  the  cavalcade  of  ruffians  came 
toward  them  and  passed  along  the  road.  The  muffled 
whinny  of  one  of  the  horses  was  drowned  by  the 
clatter  of  hoofs,  but  two  of  those  that  were  gallop- 
ing by,  threw  up  their  heads  and  nickered  as  they 
passed.  Fortunately  the  riders  took  it  that  their  hors- 
es scented  others  ahead,  so  they  spurred  forward  and 


Fire  with  Fire  249 


soon  the  sound  of  hoofs  was  lost  on  the  night  air. 

Horacio  now  collected  his  little  band  and  set  them 
in  motion  toward  Sor  Andre’s  house. 

“ What  is  this  madness,  Horacio  ? ” asked  his  fath- 
er, who  was  filled  with  misgivings. 

“ Nothing  of  madness,  father.  Nothing  of  madness, 
but  everything  of  wisdom.  We  have  no  hope  in  the 
direction  they  have  taken.  We  must  gain  the  river 
by  the  other  road  : it  is  shorter  and  our  only  hope 
to  reach  Concei<;ao.  If  we  were  to  work  our  way 
to  LenQoes  and  Sao  Manoel,  we  should  be  overtaken 
long  ere  we  came  to  safety.  No,  no  ! This  is  our 
only  chance.” 

In  silence  the  little  company  made  its  way  back  to 
the  cross-roads  and  then  down  towards  the  river. 
Morning  was  breaking  over  the  tree-tops  when  at  last 
they  found  themselves  still  a half  a league  from  the 
ferry.  Rain  was  falling  heavily  and  caused  them 
great  discomfort,  but  at  the  same  time  it  obliterated 
their  tracks  and  added  to  their  safety. 

Suddenly  Manoel,  who  had  been  kept  a little  dis- 
tance in  the  lead  as  a sort  of  scout,  came  running 
back  to  tell  them  that  the  enemy  was  approaching 
from  the  river.  Horacio  turned  his  company  aside, 
into  the  forest,  and  soon  had  them  hidden  from  the 
road.  He  then  returned  to  see  who  might  pass  and 
discovered  that  Sor  Andre  was  returning  with  six  of 
his  capangas. 

“ Exactly  ! ” he  said  to  himself.  “ You  have  left 
six  men  to  take  care  of  the  other  road,  after  learn- 
ing that  we  have  not  crossed  the  ferry,  or  else  six 


250 


Horacio 


remain  at  the  ferry.  Alas  for  us,  if  this  be  the  case  ! ” 

The  cavalcade  passed  ; cursing  at  the  rain  ; cursing 
at  Horacio ; cursing  at  the  old  man,  and  cursing  at 
things  in  general.  When  they  had  been  lost  to  sight 
and  sound  for  full  thirty  minutes,  Horacio  emerged 
from  the  forest,  and,  sending  out  a scout  in  advance, 
as  before,  went  on  toward  the  river,  splashing  through 
the  slippery  mud  as  best  they  could.  Suddenly  the 
sound  of  a galloping  horse  came  close  behind.  The 
young  man  turned  and  looked  back  to  see  the  fazen- 
deiro  bearing  down  on  them  alone,  around  a bend 
of  the  road. 

Instantly,  at  sight  of  the  little  party  and  Horacio 
walking  in  the  rear  with  ready  rifle,  he  checked  his 
horse  so  quickly  that  he  sat  upon  his  haunches  and 
slid  through  the  red  mud.  With  a sharp  jerk  of  the 
reins  he  brought  the  animal  about  and  spurred  him 
in  retreat. 

“ If  I let  him  return  we  are  lost ! I would  it  were 
the  rider  and  not  the  gallant  beast  who  has  done  no 
harm  to  anyone ! Why  should  I spare  the  man  who 
has  wrought  this  evil,  and  slay  the  noble  animal  that 
bears  him  away  ? ” 

As  these  thoughts  flitted  through  his  brain  he  dis- 
embarrassed himself  in  an  instant  of  his  saidle-bags, 
which  he  was  carrying,  and  brought  his  rifle  to  bear 
on  the  retreating  forms.  In  another  instant  they 
would  have  disappeared  from  view  and  it  would  have 
been  too  late.  A sharp  report  rang  out,  as  the  horse 
turned  at  the  angle  of  the  road,  and,  with  a great 
crash,  horse  and  rider  fell  in  the  mud. 


Fire  with  Fire 


251 


A bullet  had  passed  through  the  horse’s  neck.  Sor 
Andre  lay  prone  where  he  had  fallen  and  for  a mo- 
ment Horacio  thought  that  he  had  killed  him.  A 
pang  of  remorse  shot  through  him  and  he  ran  to  the 
side  of  his  fallen  foe.  The  splendid  horse  was  stone- 
dead  and  his  rider  lay  beneath  him,  groaning.  With 
the  aid  of  his  brothers,  who  had  come  to  assist  him, 
the  young  man  drew  the  body  of  the  horse  from  its 
master  and  set  the  man  upon  his  feet,  only  to  find 
that  one  leg  hung  limply  beneath  him.  Sor  Andre 
gave  a scream  of  pain  and  fainted  away,  so  the  young 
man  laid  him  on  the  ground  with  his  back  against 
a tree. 

“What  shall  we  do  now?”  asked  Maneco.  “If  we 
stay  to  care  for  him  we  shall  have  his  capangas  here 
as  soon  as  they  miss  him,  and  shall  lose  our  lives.” 

“ Would  they  injure  those  who  were  caring  for 
their  master  ? I cannot  bear  to  leave  him  like  this.” 

“ Ay,  that  they  would ! Thou  dost  not  know  them.” 

The  fazendeiro  opened  his  eyes  and  groaned  again 
with  returning  consciousness. 

“ Say,  Sor  Andre ! ” said  Horacio.  “ I am  going  for 
help.  If  I leave  you  here,  you  will  die.  When  I 
fetch  your  capangas  here  you  may  bid  them  kill  me, 
but  let  my  people  go!  Do  you  hear?” 

The  fazendeiro  looked  at  him  intently  for  a mo- 
ment. “ Yes,  I hear.  They  shall  go  free.” 

Horacio  shut  his  ears  to  his  brothers’  remonstrances 
and  bade  them  conduct  the  family  to  the  ferry  and 
start  across  at  once.  He  then  mounted  one  of  the 
horses  to  go  to  the  fazenda  for  aid,  but,  as  he  pass- 


252 


Horacio 


ed  the  injured  man,  he  called  to  him  in  a feeble  voice. 
Horacio  paused  and  waited  to  hear  what  he  would  say. 

“Young  man,”  said  the  fazendeiro,  with  a touch  of 
bitterness,  “ I have  played  and  lost.  The  girl  is 
drowned.  I tried  to  stop  her  but  she  would  not 
hear.  You  have  had  me  at  your  mercy  and  yet  you 
have  spared  me.  Now,  turn  back  to  the  ferry  and 
take  my  whip  to  Antonio,  who  has  half  my  men  wait- 
ing for  you  there,  in  ambush.” 

“ In  ambush  ! ” cried  the  colporteur.  “ Then  they 
will  shoot  at  me  ere  I can  deliver  your  message.” 

“ Not  so,”  replied  the  wounded  man,  between  groans. 
“ As  you  pass  the  pao  d’alho  on  the  hither  side  of 
the  clearing,  whistle  three  times.  Antonio  will  come 
out  to  meet  you.  Give  him  my  whip  and  bid  him 
come  to  me  with  the  men.  You  are  free  to  go. 
Make  haste  and  clear  out  of  here,  lest  I repent ! ” 

“ May  God  forgive  you  ! — and  aid  me  to  do  the 
same.  Adeus  ! ” and  Horacio  galloped  after  the  oth- 
ers and  restored  the  horse  to  his  sister,  acquainting 
them  with  what  had  passed. 

In  a quarter  of  an  hour  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
great  pao  d’alho  and  Horacio  advanced  to  the  front 
to  whistle  three  times,  as  he  had  been  instructed. 

A moment  later  a sturdy  caboclo  stepped  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  road  and  Horacio  trembled  as  he 
thought  what  would  have  been  their  fate  had  he  not 
offered  to  go  for  Sor  Andre’s  men.  Holding  up  the 
whip  toward  the  astonished  capanga,  the  young  man 
went  boldly  out  to  meet  him. 

“ Sor  Antonio  ! ” he  cried.  “ A message  from  Sor 


Fire  with  Fire 


253 


Andre!  You  know  the  whip?” 

“Yes,  I know  the  whip.  What  is  it  you  want?” 

“ Sor  Andre  lies  at  the  turn  of  the  road,  with  a 
broken  leg.  He  bade  me  tell  you  to  go  to  him,  and, 
by  this  token — let  us  pass  freely.” 

“ Did  he  send  no  written  word  ? ” asked  the  ca- 
panga,  sullenly. 

“ No.  He  sent  nothing  but  the  message  and  the 
token,  and  bade  me  whistle  thrice.  You  must  know 
the  sign.” 

“ Maybe  I know  the  sign  and  maybe  not,  but  what 
if  I do  not  choose  to  let  you  pass  ? ” 

“Then  you  will  have  to  settle  with  Sor  Andre — 
afterwards,  and  with  me — now  ! ” 

“ Pooh  ! I have  you  covered  with  five  guns,  load- 
ed with  buckshot.  If  I say  the  word  you  will  not 
take  one  step.” 

“Nonsense,  Sor  Antonio!  You  have  no  quarrel 
with  me.” 

“ No,  I have  no  quarrel,  but  what  is  to  prevent 
me  from  throwing  you  all  into  the  Tiete  and  keep- 
ing the  boss’s  money  ? ” 

A cold  chill  crept  through  Horacio’s  veins  as  the 
fiendish  proposition  was  revealed  to  him,  and  he 
could  not  help  but  think  how  easily  it  could  be  done. 
Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  answered,  in- 
differently: “Do  as  you  will!  God  alone  can  stop 
you ; but  you  yourself  will  certainly  die — for  my  rifle 
is  now  pointing  at  your  heart,  in  my  brother’s  hands, 
and  should  anything  happen  to  me ” 

“I  was  joking,”  said  the  capanga,  laughing  uneas- 


254 


Horacio 


ily.  “ Pass,  then,  all  of  you  ! Quickly  ! ” 

“ Not  so  ! I shall  retire  to  my  people,  and  you  are 
to  pass.  When  you  are  gone,  then  we  shall  proceed.” 

“ As  you  please — but  be  quick  about  it ! ” 

Horacio  retired  at  once  and  made  his  company  en- 
ter the  woods  and  conceal  themselves.  A moment 
later  the  six  horsemen  passed  at  full  gallop,  with  a 
great  splashing  of  mud. 

“ Now  haste,  my  father  ! Haste,  my  brothers  ! We 
must  improve  our  time  or  we  may  yet  be  lost.  To 
the  ferry  ! ” 

They  pushed  forward  on  the  run  and  hastened 
down  to  the  ferry,  which  they  found  just  ready  to 
return  to  the  farther  side.  Embarking  immediately, 
the  swift  current  soon  bore  them  across. 

“ Look  here,  my  friend,”  said  Horacio  to  the  ferry- 
man, as  he  paid  for  their  passage  and  showed  him 
a note  of  twenty  milreis ; “ how  much  do  you  gain 
in  a day,  at  this  business  ? ” 

“ Oh,  sometimes  ten— fifteen — twenty  milreis,  and 
sometimes — nothing.” 

“Well— will  you  take  this  and  come  along  with  us 
to  show  us  the  way?  Let  your  freguezes  wait  a 
day  or  go  somewhere  else  to  get  across.” 

The  ferryman  hesitated  but  kept  his  eye  covetously 
upon  the  money.  “ Perhaps  I can  direct  you  just  as 
well  from  here  ? ” he  suggested. 

“ No,  that  would  not  do.  Look  here  ! I'll  be  frank 
with  you.  I want  to  get  to  Conceigao  before  a neigh- 
bor of  mine.  There’s  a little  deal  coming  off,  you 
see ! Now,  just  be  away  from  the  ferry  for  three 


Fire  with  Fire 


255 


or  four  hours  and  you  shall  have  this  note.” 

The  man’s  face  brightened  and  he  held  out  his 
hand  for  the  money.  He  had  been  absent  at  the 
festa  all  the  previous  day,  but  three  or  four  hours 
only  meant  a half-day  more,  for  it  was  early  yet. 

“I  can  do  that,”  he  said,  promptly,  closing  his  fin- 
gers over  the  note  which  Horacio  relinquished  to  him. 

“ But,  mind  you ! ” said  Horacio,  as  he  let  go  of  it, 
and  giving  him  a significant  look ; “ if  my  neighbor 
gets  across  before  noon,  when  I come  back  I shall 
accidentally  shoot  at  a deer  along  the  bank  here,  in 
such  a way  that — you  understand  ? They  say  that  if 
one  pays  in  advance  he  is  poorly  served,  but  I — 
never  miss ! ” 

“ All  right ! All  right ! Never  fear  ! The  neighbor 
shall  not  cross.  Enough  said,”  and  he  turned  away 
to  his  cabin,  while  Horacio  followed  his  little  band 
of  refugees,  like  one  walking  in  a dream. 

The  eyes  of  his  heart  were  blind  with  grief  as  he 
looked  upon  the  cruel  waters  of  the  Tiete,  but  no 
tear  was  visible  to  those  who  stood  near  him.  For 
the  moment  his  life  was  to  be  wholly  theirs  and  he 
would  not  think  of  anything  beside. 

It  is  needless  to  follow  the  family  on  their  long 
and  painful  journey  to  their  old  home,  for  it  was 
thither  that  Horacio  had  planned  to  lead  them  and 
there  he  had  planned  to  establish  them.  Now  that 
Padre  Joao  was  dead,  there  was  nothing  to  fear. 

Six  days  after  leaving  the  ferry  they  reached  the 
once  familiar  spot  in  safety,  and  camped  where  the 


256 


Horacio 


old  house  had  stood. 

With  tools  which  they  had  purchased  on  the  way, 
they  set  about  clearing  the  place  and  putting  up  the 
frame  of  the  house  again.  Many  tiles  lay  about  and 
could  be  used  again  for  the  roof;  and  what  were 
lacking  were  brought  in  in  carts  over  the  old  road, 
now  so  long  untravelled,  but  cleared  and  repaired  by 
the  young  men  for  this  purpose. 

When  the  house  had  been  roofed  over  and  was 
rendered  partially  habitable,  they  turned  their  atten- 
tion to  the  coffee,  which  had  long  been  overgrown 
with  jungle.  For  the  remaining  three  weeks  of  Ho- 
ratio's vacation  they  cleared  the  brush  from  between 
the  rows  and  found,  to  their  surprise,  that  many  of 
the  trees  had  a small  crop  of  coffee  upon  them.  It 
is  true  that  many  had  died  and  many  more  were  sad- 
ly dwarfed  by  neglect  and  the  encroaching  of  the 
jungle,  but  those  that  remained  would  bear  enough 
to  tide  the  family  over  the  first  year. 


14 

THE  SEMINARY. 


U R I N G the  last  week  in  January 
Horacio  set  out  upon  his  return, 
accompanied  by  Jose,  who  would 
bring  back  the  horses,  and,  a few 
days  later,  having  sold  his  remain- 
ing books  along  the  way,  he  step- 
ped off  the  train  in  the  great  sta- 
tion at  Sao  Paulo. 

So  busy  had  been  his  days  and  full  of  cares,  that 
it  was  not  until  he  had  embraced  Zezinho  in  parting 
at  Lengoes,  and  the  train  had  rolled  out  of  the  sta- 
tion, that  he  had  felt  the  shock  of  his  loss  in  all  its 
real  significance. 

Now,  on  his  long  journey  to  the  City,  it  seemed  to 
him,  as  once  before  in  the  deserted  clearing  where 
he  had  sought  the  home  of  his  childhood,  that  he 
had  come  to  the  edge  of  things  and  was  looking  o- 
ver.  Not  even  the  blessed  responsibility  of  his  High 


258 


Horacio 


Calling  could  drag  him  from  this  state  of  mental  and 
spiritual  apathy.  To  find  Anna  and  then  to  lose  her ! 
If  he  had  only  kept  her,  and  not  sent  her  away  by 
night,  she  would  still  have  been  living ! 

Then  his  heart  burned  with  a fierce  desire  for  re- 
venge and  he  regretted  that  he  had  spared  his  pros- 
trate foe — her  cruel  persecutor— and,  for  a few  mo- 
ments, he  planned  a stealthy  return  to  Sor  Andre’s, 
to  square  accounts. 

At  Sao  Manoel,  fortunately,  a couple  of  school-mates 
entered  the  car  and  diverted  his  thoughts,  keeping 
them  occupied  until  he  reached  Sao  Paulo.  Here 
they  pushed  their  way  through  the  too  eager  throng 
of  white-jacketed  carregadores  with  big,  black  num- 
bers on  their  breasts,  who  disputed  noisily  for  the 
privilege  of  carrying  their  luggage ; and  climbed  on 
thy  electric  bond  which  would  take  them  to  the  Sem- 
inary. 

As  they  whirled  through  the  busy  City,  the  last 
two  months  with  their  stirring  incidents,  worthy  of  a 
past  century,  seemed  like  a dream.  Was  it  really 
true  that  he  now  had  a father  and  a mother  of  whom 
to  think  and  for  whom  to  plan?  What  had  he  ac- 
complished by  the  Scripture-reading,  prayer  and  sing- 
ing to  which  they  had  unwillingly  listened  each  night, 
in  the  new  home,  only  to  please  him? 

At  the  Square  he  changed  to  a bond  with  green 
lights,  and  was  borne  swiftly  to  the  higher  part  of 
the  City,  where  the  College  and  Seminary  stood.  In 
a few  moments  he  reached  the  place  ; ran  up  the 
gravelled  walk,  and  mounted  the  steps  of  the  Semi- 


The  Seminary  259 


nary— a student  again. 

The  American  Rector  received  him  smilingly,  al- 
though he  himself  was  a stranger,  for  the  former 
Rector  had  died  and  his  place  was  taken  by  a mis- 
sionary from  another  part  of  Brazil. 

The  young  man  took  his  bag  to  his  new  room  and 
found  the  trunk  which  had.  been  sent  over  from  the 
College,  already  waiting  for  him.  His  life  as  a theo- 
logical student  had  commenced,  and  was  to  be  mark- 
ed by  many  new  experiences. 

The  wife  of  the  new  Rector  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  for  they  felt  that  the  young  men  lacked  a cer- 
tain training  which  they  could  never  get  without  per- 
sonal contact  and  a bit  of  feminine  society  which 
could  never  be  provided  for  them  by  outside  residents. 
Accordingly,  all  thought  of  an  independent  home  had 
been  bravely  abandoned  and  they  were  come  to  live 
with  their  boys. 

So  Mrs.  Wallace,  a charming  little  woman,  presided 
at  the  table.  At  her  left  sat  Aunt  Carrie,  a dear  little 
old  lady,  who  could  teach  the  boys  Greek  or  Math- 
ematics, and  who  had  been  doing  it  all  her  sweet, 
serene  life  long.  On  the  right  sat  the  Rector  and 
his  little,  old-fashioned  daughter.  At  the  other  end 
of  the  table  was  one  of  the  Brazilian  professors  with 
his  young  wife,  and  the  sides  of  the  long  table  were 
filled  with  students. 

They  were  not  many  but  they  came  from  all  parts 
of  the  great  country.  Most  of  them,  like  Horacio, 
were  “ charity  boys  ”,  and  few  there  were  that  came 
from  families  of  any  means.  Here  was  one  from 


260 


Horacio 


the  distant  State  of  Amazonas  — a typical  equatorial 
native.  By  his  side  was  a tall,  handsome  fellow  from 
the  South : next  to  him  a Pernambuco  mulatto  show- 
ed his  teeth  in  a constant,  cheery  smile.  He  had 
served  four  years  in  the  regular  army,  after  running 
away  from  an  unhappy  marriage,  and  is  now  a wid- 
ower. Happy  Jose ! In  a childlike  Christian  faith 
he  has  found  peace. 

Next  to  the  Pernambucan  was  a slender  and  well- 
groomed  lad  from  the  City  itself — the  only  “ man-of- 
means”  among  them  all.  Beside  him  sat  a school- 
teacher’s son.  His  father  was  earning  twenty-five 
dollars  a month  and  boarding  himself.  His  mother 
was  cooking  on  a fazenda  to  support  her  little  daugh- 
ter and  herself.  Next  to  him  was  a fazendeiro’s  son, 
and  thus  the  list  might  be  filled.  Most  of  the  boys 
were  in  earnest,  but  at  least  a few  of  them  were  “ rice 
Christians”. 

Here  is  the  son  of  a well-to-do  merchant  of  the 
interior,  who,  after  giving  three  or  four  hundred  mil- 
reis  to  the  support  of  the  Seminary,  expects  to  keep 
his  son  upon  the  free-list  and  has  already  received  a 
conto  for  his  education.  His  money  from  home  is 
spent  for  gaudy  scarfs,  diamonds  and  “yellow-back” 
translations  of  putrid  French.  He  will  soon  be  eras- 
ed from  the  free-list  and  perhaps  be  cut  off  altogeth- 
er from  the  school. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  young  man  whose  father 
is  a school-teacher  is  given  to  drawing  the  long  bow. 
He  borrows  money  which  he  cannot  pay  and  brags 
of  the  great  fazenda  which  his  father  owns,  and  of 


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his  dogs  and  horses.  The  money  which  he  borrows, 
and  what  little  his  pe'ople  can  send  him,  goes  for 
clothes.  He  is  proud ! The  Committee  of  Presbytery 
is  about  to  send  for  him  to  enquire  why  he  is  on 
the  free-list  if  his  father  is  a wealthy  fazendeiro. 

The  orator  of  the  Seminary  is  also  here.  He  is 
chosen  as  the  official  spokesman  on  all  state  occa- 
sions. You  can  see  it  as  he  eats.  The  food  ap- 
proaches his  mouth  in  a majestic  wave.  His  head  is 
thrown  back  to  receive  it,  as  when  uttering  a lofty 
period.  He  is  not  at  the  head  of  his  classes,  but  he 
can  pour  out  seven-syllabled  words  like  the  flow  of 
a river,  without  even  the  necessity  for  a subject — or 
an  idea — to  his  discourse.  He  is  a good  fellow,  but 
a little  vain,  perhaps. 

Almost  without  exception  these  boys  are  guiltless 
of  home-training,  table-manners  and  all  the  little  re- 
finements of  life.  A pulpit-lecture  on  these  things, 
once  a month,  or  even  once  a week,  will  not  do : for 
one  might  as  well  give  a degree  to  a donkey  loaded 
with  books  as  attempt  to  make  ministers  with  the- 
ology alone.  The  Rector  grasps  this  truth,  and, 
heaving  a hastily-checked  sigh,  takes  up  his  abode 
with  them  and  invites  little  Professor  Monteiro  to 
assist  him.  This  dear  little  man  is,  as  Aunt  Carrie 
says,  an  amalgamation  of  Lord  Macaulay  and  Little 
Lord  Fauntleroy,  and  will  be  a staff  to  lean  upon, 
for  he  is  not  an  alien,  but  their  own  blood. 

Horacio  is  to  thank  the  memory  of  these  kind 
friends  many  times  in  the  days  to  come  for  this  now 
but  slightly  appreciated  sacrifice  which  they  have 


262 


Horacio 


made  in  his  behalf  and  in  the  behalf  of  these  others. 
A minister  needs  more  than  theology  — as  has  been 
said  — and  he  needs  more  than  theology  and  polish, 
although  the  latter  helps.  He  even  needs  more  than 
these  two  and  love,— -he  needs  common  sense! 

The  boys  were  to  have  a glimpse  of  all  these 
things,  and  it  was  a precious  jewel  in  a deep  mine, 
where  they  were  to  delve. 

A month  went  by  in  the  new  life — this  life  of  sub- 
duing boisterousness,  of  slowly  permeating  refinement, 
of  gradually  developing  thoughtfulness.  Horacio  had 
made  his  report  to  the  Presbytery  and  was  now  on 
the  way  to  the  Minister’s  to  receive  his  monthly  al- 
lowance. A rumor  had  come  to  his  ears  of  clouds 
on  the  horizon  and  he  was  not  altogether  easy  in 
his  mind  as  he  ran  up  the  steps  and  clapped  his 
hands  at  the  door. 

The  Minister  himself  opened  and  bade  him  enter. 
When  he  had  shaken  hands  with  the  family,  Senhor 
Camargo  drew  him  aside  into  the  study  and  handed 
him  his  allowance. 

“ Sit  down,  my  young  friend, — sit  down  ! ” he  said, 
drawing  forward  a chair  for  Horacio,  and  seating 
himself  at  his  desk.  “ We  are  come  upon  bad  times, 
I fear.”  He  laughed  nervously  and  continued  : “ I 
have  bad  news  for  you.  Our  treasury  is  empty  ! 
Worse  than  that,  indeed,  for  we  have  to  find  some 
interest  money  which  must  be  paid  or  else  the  mort- 
gage on  the  building  will  be  foreclosed.  I am  soriy, 
but  we  must  hope  for  better  times.  Perhaps  next 
year ” 


The  Seminary  263 


“Then  I must  go  back  to  the  sertao  ! ” exclaimed 
the  student,  with  a queer  grasping  sensation  in  his 
throat. 

“ No,  no ! Perhaps  not.  We  can  give  you  board 
and  lodging  and  you  have  a little  money  from  your 
journey,  have  you  not?” 

“Yes, — I have  sixty  milreis  and  with  that  and  the 
thirty  you  have  just  given  me  I can  get  along  for 
some  time — except  for  the  books.  I have  a large 
bill  for  new  books  which  I must  pay.” 

“ Let  that  go  for  the  present.  You  are  doing  good 
work.  If  you  desire  to  risk  it  and  go  on,  I can  ar- 
range for  you  to  pay  that  later.  Perhaps  we  can 
continue  to  help  you  in  a few  months.  At  any  rate, 
although  you  are  free  to  go  home  if  you  desire,  I 
earnestly  advise  you  to  remain,  especially  as  you 
have  no  people  who  need  you.” 

“ I have  found  my  people,  sir ! They  are  well — 
that  is — yes,  they  are  well,  all  well.” 

Horacio  scarcely  heard  the  Minister’s  exclamations 
of  surprise  and  cordial  congratulations.  His  memory 
reverted  to  the  incidents  of  his  vacation-trip.  “ I sent 
her  away!  I sent  her  away!”  he  kept  saying  to 
himself,  and  then,  in  his  hour  of  financial  need,  he 
remembered  the  bulky  package  which  he  had  left  in 
her  care,  and  of  which  he  had  not  thought  before, 
and  was  angry  with  himself  for  remembering.  The 
Minister’s  repeated  question  brought  him  to  himself. 

“ How  did  you  find  your  people  ? ” he  was  asking. 
Horacio  gave  a partial  explanation  and  arose  to  go. 

“ My  people  do  need  me,”  he  said,  with  a note  of 


264 


Horacio 


regret.  “ Perhaps  it  is  God’s  will  that  I shall  go 
to  them  ? ” 

“ Well, — think  and  pray  over  it  and  let  me  know 
what  your  decision  is.” 

“ Yes,  sir.  I shall  do  so  and  let  you  know  to-mor- 
row. Thank  you ! Ate  amanha  ! ” 

“ Ate  amanha ! Passar  bem  ! ” 

The  young  man  went  slowly  down  the  street  with 
a gloomy  face  and  a gloomy  heart.  Why  did  all  his 
business  suffer  reverses,  when  he  was  in  the  path 
of  duty  ? There  was  Anna—  alas  ! —perhaps  she  had 
been  in  the  way  and,  because  of  this,  was  providen- 
tially removed.  He  had  not  thought  of  that,  before. 
Then  the  money  that  was  stolen  in  the  jail  — which, 
in  truth,  he  had  almost  forgotten  ; the  money  which 
must  have  gone  down  the  river  with  the  girl,  and, 
now,  the  help  which  had  been  promised  by  the  Pres- 
bytery! Should  he  go  forward  or  go  back? 

A group  of  children  blocked  his  way,  with  shouts 
and  laughter.  He  stepped  off  the  narrow  sidewalk, 
in  order  to  pass  them,  and  paused  to  see  what  they 
were  doing.  For  a moment  he  could  not  make  it 
out  and  then,  in  an  instant,  he  divined  it. 

Two  little  Italian  girls  stood  on  the  walk,  gravely 
turning  an  imaginary  skipping-rope.  Between  them 
another  was  hopping  and  dodging  the  rope  with  her 
head.  A fourth  “ran  in”  and  hopped  a moment, 
then  tripped  on  the  rope.  The  other  gave  her  an 
outraged  look  and  a push,  and  complained  impatiently 
of  her  awkwardness.  Both  stepped  aside,  out  of  the 
way,  in  order  that  the  rope  might  swing  again,  and 


The  Seminary  265 


the  whole  group  burst  into  a shout  of  laughter.  Ho- 
racio  laughed,  too.  Here  was  faith,  indeed — the  evi- 
dence of  things  not  seen.  There  was  no  rope,  to  be 
sure ; but  there  was  the  good-will,  and — who  knows  ? 
— perhaps  the  rope  might  materialize. 

Horacio  stepped  into  a “ loja  de  ferragens  ”,  hard 
by,  and  became  their  providence.  A yell  of  delight 
went  up  and  the  student  turned  away  with  a smile 
and  a fresh  bit  of  courage  for  himself. 

That  night  there  was  to  be  a special  function  at  the 
Seminary.  The  Rector  and  his  little  lady,  as  has  been 
said,  believed  in  the  humanizing  influence  of  ladies’ 
society.  Once  a month  there  were  to  be  games, 
sweets  and  tea,  and  a bunch  of  girls  from  the  school 
to  help.  Each  student  was  privileged  to  mention  one 
young  lady’s  name,  and  then  the  Principal  of  the  Girls’ 
School  might  add  a few  more  names  to  the  list. 

’ Twas  a sight  worth  remembering  to  see  how  the 
courage  oozed  out  of  these  valiant  hearts  as  they 
faced  the  battery.  Even  the  state -orator  turned  pale. 
Finally,  the  big  young  man  from  the  South,  with  a 
great  blush  and  in  a trembling  voice,  uttered  the 
name  of  one  of  the  teachers,  down  below. 

“Very  good!  Now  we  have  a beginning.  Who 
will  be  next  ? ” 

The  young  man  of  the  diamonds  rashly  gasped  out 
the  name  of  a popular  divinity.  A dozen  pairs  of 
indignant  eyes  were  turned  upon  him  like  so  many 
rapid-fire  guns,  for  having  dared  to  do  what  all  the 
rest  were  longing  to  do ; then  a giggle  ran  around. 

“ Come,  young  gentlemen  ! Can’t  you  remember 


266 


Horacio 


their  names?  That  only  makes  two.  You  stare  at 
them  enough  in  chapel,  at  the  College,  I’ve  been  told. 
I shall  say  them  over  and  you  can  let  me  know  if 
you  want  them.  There  is  Donna  Clara — and  Donna 
Brigida — and  Donna  Cocotta,  and — that’s  right ! — now 
the  list  is  filling  up ! ” 

Thus  the  adroit  little  lady  managed  to  screw  out 
of  their  bashful  admirers  a list  of  the  fair  students 
who  were  to  be  asked  to  the  reception,  and  sent  it 
down  to  the  School.  Such  a primping  and  fussing 
before  cracked  and  blistered  glasses  was  never  seen 
before,  I warrant,  even  in  a young  ladies’  seminary, 
but  among  grave  theologues  it  verged  on  scandal. 
What  a brushing  of  best  coats  and  straightening  of 
ties  ! What  a twisting  of  immature  moustaches ! Oh, 
if  only  the  girls  could  have  seen  them  ! Naturally, 
the  girls  did  nothing  of  a similar  sort  themselves,  and, 
if  they  did — why,  that  is  their  privilege ! 

Horacio  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  the  com- 
motion but  suffered  himself  to  be  drawn  with  the 
current,  and,  laying  his  books  aside,  spruced  up  as 
well  as  he  might,  for  the  occasion. 

And  now  there  was  a great  grouping  about  the 
doors,  and  a wringing  of  nervous  hands,  and  a fresh 
twisting  of  immature  moustaches.  At  last  the  green 
lights  of  the  bond  could  be  seen,  rapidly  rushing  up 
the  slope,  and  the  scouts  that  peeked  from  the  Sem- 
inary-door sighted  a bevy  of  girls  in  festive  attire,  in 
the  car. 

Such  fortitude  and  valor  as  would  have  been  re- 
quired to  enable  them  to  step  forth  and  assist  the 


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267 


fair  ones  to  alight  from  the  bond,  was  not  to  be  ex- 
pected. Besides,  gentlemen  do  not,  as  a rule,  help 
ladies  from  bonds  in  Brazil.  For  some  occult  reason 
it  is  not  the  mode. 

In  another  moment  a mass  of  white  and  pink  and 
blue  and  cream,  set  with  such  jewels  as  dancing  blue 
and  black  eyes,  fluttered  up  the  stone  steps,  mar- 
shalled and  headed  by  Miss  Holland,  and  disappeared 
in  a class-room,  after  a triumphal  progress  between 
two  files  of  quite-overwhelmed  young  men. 

Presently  they  emerged  again  and  now  there  was 
a tremendous  hand-shaking,  for  everybody  must  needs 
shake  hands  with  everybody  else,  and  that  made 
some  four  hundred  friendly  hand-clasps  and  four  hun- 
dred cordial  phrases  of  greeting,  all  in  a minute  or  so. 

A circle  of  chairs  stood  about  the  largest  room  of 
the  Seminary,  close  against  the  wall.  To  these  all 
dutifully  betook  themselves  as  soon  as  the  salutations 
were  completed  and  the  young  ladies  carefully  rang- 
ed themselves  in  an  unbroken  line  on  one  side  while 
the  theologues  took  the  other. 

Now  this  was  not  at  all  to  the  mind  of  the  little 
mistress-of-ceremonies,  so  around  the  room  she  went, 
with  forefinger  uplifted,  counting  and  nodding,  mer- 
rily and  emphatically : “ Um,  dous,  tres,  quatro,  cin- 
co!  You  are  “cinco”  ! All  right ! Seis,  sete,  oito,  no- 
ve,  dez ! Just  go  on,  counting  around  ! That's  right ! 
Now  begin  again  and  do  it  all  over,  so  you  won’t 
forget.  Very  well ! I am  going  to  stand  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room  with  this  old  tray,  and  spin  it  as  I 
call  a number.  The  ‘ number  ’ must  catch  the  tray 


268 


Horacio 


or  be  ‘ it  Now  then-— ready  ! Here  you  go  ! Twen- 
ty-seven ! ” 

The  little  lady  twirled  the  tray  and  Twenty-seven, 
who  was  the  Rector,  caught  it  ere  it  lay  flat  on  the 
floor.  A shout  of  appreciative  laughter  went  up. 
It  was  new  but  it  was  “dead  easy”. 

“ Twelve ! ” the  little  lady  called,  ere  the  laughter 
subsided,  and  Twelve  was  “ it  ”.  The  fun  grew  fast 
and  furious,  and,  when  the  game  was  suddenly  check- 
ed in  twenty  minutes,  the  battalion-like  formation, 
which  had  prevailed,  was  smashed  into  smithereens. 

For  a few  moments  they  were  permitted  to  catch 
their  breath  and  get  a little  better  acquainted,  but 
their  opportunity  for  conversation  did  not  last  very 
long  before  their  hostess  stepped  into  the  middle  of 
the  room  and  clapped  her  hands  for  silence. 

“ Now  we  shall  play  ‘ Escoba  ’,  ” announced  the  mis- 
tress-of-ceremonies,  and,  as  there  are  too  many  for 
one  ring,  we  shall  form  two.  Here,  my  dear  — you 
fix  up  the  other  and  I shall  attend  to  this  one ! ” 

The  young  people  were  quickly  marshalled  upon 
the  floor  and  formed  in  two  circles,  within  each  of 
which  someone  was  “ it  ”.  At  this  moment  Horacio, 
who  had  clung  to  his  books  until  the  noise  prevent- 
ed him  from  longer  making  good  use  of  his  time, 
descended  the  stairs  and  entered  the  room.  At  the 
same  instant  Mrs.  Wallace  espied  him. 

“ Oh,  Senhor  Horacio  ! That  is  very  naughty ! You 
must  do  penance.  Come  here  and  be  ‘ it  ’ ! ” 

She  resigned  her  own  place  in  the  center  of  the 
circle  and  pushed  him  into  it.  “ Now,  tell  us  who 


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269 


has  the  brush  ! ” 

The  brush,  which  was  in  somebody’s  hand,  was 
suddenly  rubbed  over  the  back  of  Horacio’s  coat  and 
as  quickly  disappeared  from  sight.  When  he  turned, 
he  saw  no  brush,  but  there,  looking  him  full  in  the 
eyes,  was  Anna ! 


15 

THE  RIVER. 


H E night  that  Horacio  found  his 
parents  again,  after  so  many  years, 
Anna  had  set  forth  on  Bonito,  in 
accordance  with  his  instructions, 
to  make  her  way  toward  Concei- 
cao.  Knowing  that  it  would  avail 
her  nothing  to  reach  the  Tiete  be- 
fore daybreak,  she  did  not  hurry,  and  thus  she  hoped 
to  spare  Bonito  for  a hard  ride  when  once  she  was 
across  the  river. 

Strange  sounds  came  from  the  forest,  as  she  rode 
through  the  night,  and  small  creatures  of  various 
sorts  scurried  across  her  path.  Sometimes  it  was  on- 
ly a tatu  or  cutia,  but  once  and  again  some  larger 
animal  plunged  heavily  into  the  brush,  and  awaken- 
ed a momentary  flutter  in  the  young  woman’s  breast. 
The  forest  was,  indeed,  dark  and  fearsome,  but  Anna 
was  a child  of  the  sertao  and  well-used  to  all  its 


The  River 


271 


peculiarities.  Naturally  courageous,  at  all  times,  she 
now  felt  an  additional  throb  of  courage  each  time 
that  she  reached  out  and  laid  her  hand  gently  on 
Bonito’s  neck— Horacio’s  horse — -and  remembered  that 
ride  of  long  ago,  and  who  had  sent  her  on  this  one. 

In  her  bosom  nestled  the  package  of  money  and 
the  letter,  and  from  time  to  time  she  pressed  her 
hand  upon  them  to  assure  herself  of  their  safety, 
just  as  she  had  done  that  night  of  their  flight  from 
the  old  home,  when  she  was  saving  the  money  for 
Horacio. 

She  reached  the  ferry  just  as  it  began  to  grow 
light.  The  cabin  of  the  ferryman  was  built  upon  the 
farther  side,  and  at  that  end  of  the  great  steel  cable 
lay  the  ferry-boat  also.  There  was  no  sign  of  move- 
ment about  the  house,  that  she  could  see,  and  Anna 
called  until  her  voice  failed  her,  without  arousing  the 
ferryman,  who,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  was  off  to 
a festa  at  Conce^ao,  leaving  his  patrons  to  curse 
and  wait  or  hunt  some  other  ferry,  leagues  away. 

Anna  did  not,  of  course,  know  this  or  she  would 
have  spared  her  voice  and  sought  some  other  means 
to  get  across. 

The  hours  went  slowly  by  and  it  must  have  been 
about  ten  o’clock  when  she  heard  the  rapid  approach 
of  hoofs.  A sudden  premonition  of  danger  caused 
her  to  mount  upon  Bonito.  She  looked  up  the  river 
and  down  the  river  in  search  of  a road,  other  than 
the  one  which  had  brought  her,  and  upon  which  the 
rapid  beat  of  hoofs  was  now  sounding  nearer  and 
nearer. 


272 


Horacio 


The  river  banks  were  heavily  wooded  to  the  wa- 
ter’s edge,  and  the  road  which  led  down  to  the  ferry 
came  to  an  abrupt  end  at  the  brink  of  the  flood. 
The  first  rains  of  winter  had  already  swollen  the 
stream  to  a turbid  and  sullen  volume,  which  drifted 
lazily  along  with  a deceptive  appearance  of  sluggish- 
ness, which  was  only  contradicted  by  the  velocity 
with  which  scum  and  drift  passed  a given  point  up- 
on the  shore. 

Anna  gazed  at  the  stream  and  then  back  at  the 
wood,  and  knew  not  why  this  deathly  terror  seized 
her.  The  rider  rapidly  approached  and,  dashing  out 
into  plain  view,  drew  rein  in  front  of  the  bit  of  thatch- 
ed shelter  which  the  ferryman  had  erected  upon  the 
bank.  Instantly  Anna  recognized  Sor  Andre  and  at 
the  same  moment  the  fazendeiro  espied  the  girl  upon 
the  edge  of  the  abrupt  slope  which  led  down  to  the 
water.  With  an  exclamation  of  satisfaction  he  struck 
his  horse  sharply  with  his  silver-mounted  chicote  and 
thrust  his  spurs  into  its  side. 

’ Twas  well,  perhaps,  that  he  gave  her  no  time  to 
think.  With  a half-gasp,  half-scream,  she  drew  hard 
on  Bonito’s  reins  and  struck  him  with  their  long 
loose  ends.  The  old  horse  seemed  to  know  that  the 
times  were  perilous,  for  he  gave  one  mighty  leap  out 
into  the  flood,  striking  the  muddy  water  with  a great 
splash. 

In  an  instant  he  rose  again  to  the  surface,  with 
his  brave  rider  still  firmly  fixed  in  the  saddle,  to 
which  she  clung  with  both  hands  in  superhuman  des- 
peration. Bonito  stretched  his  long  neck  out  of  the 


The  River 


273 


water  and,  blowing  spray  from  his  nostrils,  strained 
his  eyes  toward  the  other  shore,  to  search  out  a 
landing  on  the  farther  side. 

When  her  first  terror  had  passed  and  she  had  re- 
covered a little  confidence,  Anna  gathered  up  the 
reins  quickly  with  one  hand,  and,  setting  her  strong 
white  teeth  in  the  leather,  drew  Bonito’s  head  well 
up  against  the  current,  hoping  to  make  the  ferry- 
landing on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 

“ Turn  back  ! Turn  back  ! Do  you  want  to  be 
drowned  ? ” cried  Sor  Andre,  from  the  bank. 

His  voice  came  faintly  to  her  ears,  over  the  rush- 
ing water,  and  seemed  to  belong  to  another  world 
and  another  time.  The  girl  did  not  even  turn  her 
head  to  see  what  her  enemy  was  doing  but  anxiously 
followed  every  movement  of  the  faithful  horse  which 
bore  her,  perhaps  to  death,  but  certainly  out  of  the 
power  of  the  fazendeiro.  The  water  dragged  at  her 
floating  garments,  and,  had  they  not  been  light  and 
scanty,  must  surely  have  drawn  her  down. 

Bonito  fought  his  way  steadily  onward,  but  the 
trees  upon  the  shore  flew  past  and  soon  the  ferry- 
landings  and  Anna’s  watching  foe  had  altogether  dis- 
appeared from  view.  The  strong  current  was  rapid- 
ly sweeping  horse  and  rider  to  the  opposite  shore, 
but  the  girl  now  saw  to  her  dismay,  that  the  bank 
was  precipitous  and  crowned  with  heavy  brush  and 
forest  growth.  The  horse,  too,  seemed  to  compre- 
hend the  new  peril  of  their  situation  and,  having  lift- 
ed himself  by  a supreme  effort,  high  out  of  water, 
and  turned  his  head  from  side  to  side  to  see  what 


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Horacio 


hope  there  was,  drew  the  reins  from  Anna’s  teeth 
with  a sharp  jerk  and  turned  well  about,  swimming 
straight  down  with  the  current. 

The  trees  now  flew  past  with  greatly  increased 
rapidity  and  Anna  noticed  with  keen  anxiety  that  Bo- 
nito’s  breathing  was  becoming  very  labored,  that  he 
swam  heavily  and  with  great  effort,  and  still  the  ver- 
tical banks  stared  her  in  the  face.  ’ Twas  evident 
that  in  a few  moments  the  brave  animal  must  give 
up  the  fight.  The  girl  commenced  to  loosen  her  skirt, 
in  order  that  she  might  drop  it  down  over  her  feet 
and  swim  for  her  life.  Suddenly  they  swept  into 
view  of  the  outlet  of  a small  stream  which  flowed 
into  the  main  river.  The  angle  of  the  bank  at  its 
mouth  sloped  down  to  the  Tiete,  and,  if  they  could 
reach  it,  it  would  mean  safety  to  horse  and  rider. 

“ Bonito  ! ” cried  the  girl,  in  sudden  exultation,  and 
pointed  with  her  hand.  With  a snort  of  hope  the 
intelligent  horse  struggled  toward  the  narrow  point, 
and  Anna,  to  aid  him,  slipped  from  the  saddle  and 
clung  to  it  with  one  hand,  swimming  vigorously  with 
the  other.  Thus  lightened,  Bonito  made  the  point 
and  scrambled  upon  it,  only  to  sink  to  his  saddle- 
girths  in  soft  and  sticky  mud.  The  girl  gained  firm- 
er ground  above  him  and  stood  there,  wringing  her 
hands  as  she  looked  down  upon  the  noble  friend  who 
had  brought  her  safe  over  the  flood. 

Bonito  lay  exhausted  upon  the  mud,  his  heaving 
sides  and  distended  nostrils  telling  how  gallant  had 
been  the  battle  and  how  nearly  he  was  spent. 

“ Oh,  Bonito,  Bonito  ! ” cried  Anna,  “ what  shall 


The  River 


275 


we  do  ? ” 

The  horse  turned  his  protruding  eyes  sadly  upon 
her  and  whinnied  in  a sort  of  whimper.  The  girl 
caught  his  rein,  and,  bracing  herself  firmly  against  a 
root,  pulled  with  all  her  might,  and  encouraged  the 
poor  old  horse  with  cheery  words  to  struggle  out  of 
his  miry  bed.  Bonito  plunged  and  threshed  about, 
but  only  wearied  himself  and  gained  no  advantage. 
Now,  at  last,  Anna’s  courage  gave  way. 

“ What  will  Horacio  say  ? ” she  cried,  and,  drop- 
ping upon  the  ground,  sobbed  bitterly.  Bonito  whin- 
nied again,  as  if  to  say : “ Never  mind,  dear  heart ! 
Leave  an  old  horse  to  die,  and  go  on  your  way. 
My  love  to  Horacio ! Tell  him  that  I was  faithful ! ” 

“ Coitado ! ” cried  the  girl,  at  the  sound  of  the  fee 
ble  whinny,  which  she  seemed  to  read  and  under- 
stand. “ Thou  shalt  not  die ! Only  hold  on  while  I 
seek  help ! ” 

She  turned  and,  struggling  to  her  feet,  began  to 
make  her  way  up  the  bank,  when  a splash  of  paddles 
came  to  her  ears  and  a canoe  whirled  swiftly  down 
the  small  river. 

“ Oh,  help  me  save  my  horse  ! ” she  cried.  “ For 
the  love  of  the  Saints— -help  me  ! ” 

The  men  in  the  canoe  brought  their  unstable  craft 
about  with  a sweep  of  their  paddles,  and  approach- 
ed the  bank. 

“ Ohe ! ” said  one  of  them,  gazing  in  astonishment 
at  the  horse  and  the  girl.  “ How  did  he  come  here  ? ” 

“I  swam  the  river  with  him  and  now  he  will  die 
if  you  do  not  help.  Oh,  please,  pull  him  out ! The 


276 


Horacio 


good  horse  ! ” and  a sob  trembled  in  her  voice.  Bo- 
nito  turned  his  tired  head  toward  the  canoe  and 
whinnied  again,  with  a note  of  hope. 

The  man  looked  at  his  companions.  “ That  is  not 
very  easy,”  he  said,  doubtfully,  “for  we  have  no 
ropes.” 

“ Here  is  a lariat,  at  his  saddle ! ” answered  the 
girl,  quickly.  “ Oh,  do  not  delay  but  help  him  out ! 
He  is  weary  and  will  die.  ” 

“Well, — quem  sabe?  We  shall  see.  Vamos,  com- 
padres,  and  lend  a hand!” 

The  men  piled  out  of  the  canoe  and  moored  it  to 
a sapling.  In  a few  moments  they  had  burrowed 
with  the  paddles  and  their  hands  into  the  mud  be- 
neath the  horse  and  had  passed  the  rope  several 
times  under  his  body.  Then  all  four  pulled,  while 
Anna  clung  to  the  reins  and  called  to  the  horse  in 
tender  entreaty. 

“Now,-— all  together!”  shouted  the  men,  and  Bo- 
nito  struggled  half  out  of  the  mire.  “ Now, — once 
more  ! All  together ! ” 

The  men  pulled  and  the  horse  plunged  and  got  up- 
on his  knees.  A moment  more  and  he  stumbled  up 
the  bank  and  stood  with  trembling  limbs  and  heav- 
ing sides  upon  the  firm  and  level  ground. 

“ There,  old  horse  ! ” said  the  man  who  had  first 
spoken,  “the  crows  will  not  pick  thy  bones  to-day, 
so  praise  God  ! How  didst  thou  come  to  cross  the 
stream,  girl  ? Didst  thou  hope  to  ford  it  in  time  of 
freshet,  when  there  is  two  meters  over  the  shoals  at 
lowest  water  ? ” 


The  River 


277 


“No,”  said  the  girl,  hesitating  to  tell  the  truth,  “I 
found  the  ferry  deserted  and  must  needs  cross  for  a 
matter  of  life  and  death.  I thought  not  that  the  cur- 
rent was  so  strong.  How  can  I thank  you  for  your 
help  ? May  the  Virgin  reward  you  ! ” 

“ Ah,  that  is  nothing.  So  that  old  vagabond  Jose, 
of  the  ferry,  has  gone  off  to  the  festa  at  Conceicao  ! 
I wish  he  were  in  the  Tiete,  himself — good  riddance  ! 
Well,  there  is  a trail  a bit  further  along,  which  leads 
to  the  road : it  is  not  far.  May  it  go  well  with  thee  ! 
So  long ! ” 

“ So  long,  and  God  go  with  you ! ” 

The  men  took  their  places  in  the  canoe  again  and 
pushed  off  into  the  stream.  In  another  moment  they 
were  lost  to  sight,  while  Anna  sat  upon  a stump  and 
waited  for  Bonito  to  recover  somewhat  from  his  won- 
derful effort.  After  about  half  an  hour  she  took  his 
reins  in  her  hand  and  set  out  on  foot  along  the  nar- 
row trail  toward  the  main  road,  where  she  washed 
the  animal  at  a small  corrego  and  rubbed  him  down 
with  dry  banana  leaves.  It  was  now  about  two 
o’clock  and  she  must  be  on  her  way  and  waste  no 
time  if  she  would  reach  Conceigao  before  night. 

For  about  two  hours  she  walked  as  rapidly  as  she 
could  and  then  halted  to  purchase  a feed  of  corn  for 
Bonito  and  a mouthful  of  something  for  herself.  An 
hour  later  she  mounted  and  rode  slowly  toward  the 
town,  which  she  reached  a little  after  nightfall,  weary 
and  hungry. 

At  Conceigao  she  had  friends  and  found  hospitable 
entertainment  and  a change  of  clothing,  with  a chance 


278 


Horacio 


to  dry  the  little  bundle  she  had  brought  with  her 
and  the  dress  that  she  had  worn.  The  next  day  she 
pushed  on  toward  Jahu,  and  there  she  left  Bonito 
with  his  owner  and  took  the  train  for  Sao  Paulo. 


16 

HE  MINISTER. 

0 R A C I 0 stood,  facing  Anna,  but 
after  the  first  flash  of  recognition, 
he  doubted  whether  his  eyes  had 
served  him  well.  How  changed 
she  was ! The  girl  that  had  part- 
ed with  him  such  a short  time  be- 
fore, clad  in  a shabby  calico  dress, 
wan  and  sallow  and  worn,  was  now  very  becomingly 
dressed  in  a pretty,  but  inexpensive,  gown.  Her  face 
and  figure  were  rounded  with  wholesome  living  and 
her  great  dark  eyes  shone  with  a new  light. 

Was  this  the  prematurely-aged  young  girl  whom 
he  had  last  seen  in  his  father’s  house  ? 

Here  was  the  fast-approaching  fulfilment  of  all  the 
promise  of  beauty  which  her  younger  years  had  giv- 
en ! For  a moment  he  knew  her  and  then  he  did 
not  know  her.  How  could  it  be  ? 

Mrs.  Wallace  was  gazing  at  him  curiously.  The 


280 


Horacio 


circle  had  stopped  for  a moment  and  then  moved  on 
again.  Anna  flushed  but  did  not  speak.  Someone 
rubbed  his  back  with  the  brush  again,  and  he  spun 
around  to  catch  him.  No  brush  was  in  sight  and  the 
circle  took  up  their  march.  The  next  time,  however, 
he  was  quicker  and  caught  the  holder  of  the  brush. 
Taking  the  victim’s  place,  his  hand  closed  firmly  on 
Anna’s  soft  palm. 

“ Is  it  really  thou,  Anna  ? ” he  whispered. 

“Yes,  of  course,  but  you  need  not  stare  at  me  so,” 
she  answered,  and  held  her  head  proudly,  half  in 
vexation  and  half  in  satisfaction  at  the  evident  sen- 
sation she  was  creating. 

The  brush  was  thrust  into  his  hand  by  his  neigh- 
bor on  the  other  side  and  he  passed  it  at  once  to 
Anna,  who  was  discovered  with  it  in  her  possession. 
A few  moments  later  the  circle  broke  up,  and  short- 
ly afterwards  Miss  Holland  came  to  him  and  shook 
hands. 

“Why  have  you  not  been  to  see  us,  Senhor  Ho- 
racio?” she  enquired.  “Your  cousin  arrived  safely 
and  brought  your  letter.  I bought  her  what  she 
needed  and  put  the  rest  of  the  money  in  the  Savings 
Bank.  Dr.  Street  has  made  her  a special  rate,  so  the 
money  will  do  for  her  in  abundance  for  at  least  two 
years.  She  is  to  help  with  the  little  folks,  in  order 
to  justify  the  reduced  rate.” 

“ Thank  you ! You  are  very  kind.  I did  not  go 
to  see  you  because  I did  not  know — that  is — I have 
been  very  busy,  but  I shall  go  there  soon.  Is  she 
contented  ? ” 


The  Minister 


281 


“ I think  so.  She  has  improved  much,  already, 
and  yet  she  does  not  seem  altogether  happy.  Per- 
haps it  is  because  she  has  received  no  news  of  her 
people.” 

“I  shall  go  down,  then,  to-morrow,  if  you  permit, 
and  tell  her  all  about  them.” 

“Very  well.  We  shall  be  glad  to  see  you.  Bring 
one  of  your  companions,  if  you  like.” 

Mrs.  Wallace  beckoned  and  called  to  Horacio  to 
help  pass  the  tea  and  cake.  When  he  was  through 
with  this  duty,  Anna  was  sitting  between  two  other 
girls  and  seemed  to  avoid  catching  his  eye. 

When  they  had  all  gone,  gladness  and  chagrin  to- 
gether teased  him  out  of  an  hour  of  study  and  sev- 
eral hours  of  sleep.  He  was  burning  with  curiosity 
to  have  an  explanation  of  the  mystery  — the  double 
mystery  of  Anna’s  escape  and  of  her  displeasure. 

The  following  day  Horacio  did  not  go  to  the  lower 
school.  In  the  afternoon  a message  came,  asking 
him  to  take  charge  of  a mission  service  in  place  of 
another,  whose  turn  it  was,  but  who  was  ill  and  un- 
able to  attend.  With  considerable  vexation  of  spirit 
the  young  man  consented  to  take  the  work  and  sent 
word  to  the  Mission  that  he  would  be  there.  He 
felt  that  he  was  under  too  great  obligations  to  refuse 
any  such  calls,  and  the  evening  found  him  threading 
his  way  through  crowds  gathered  in  front  of  the  lewd 
pictures  in  the  book-store  windows,  or  between  the 
countless  sprawling  babies  and  through  groups  of 
gesticulating  Italians,  in  loud-voiced  discussion  in  front 
of  dingy  and  squalid  houses  which,  in  the  daytime, 


282 


Horacio 


were  cheap  restaurants,  clothes-cleaning  establish- 
ments, shoe-shops  and  small  stores.  This  home-life 
of  “ Little  Italy  ” comes  into  being  between  six  and 
nine  of  the  evening,  on  the  sidewalk,  and  very  much 
in  the  way  of  pedestrians. 

The  little  mission-room  was  dim  and  cheerless,  but 
the  crowd  soon  gathered,  after  the  doors  were  open- 
ed. A portable  organ  stood  in  the  corner  and  a 
young  German  was  at  hand  to  play  it.  The  heavy 
air  of  the  long-closed  room  soon  grew  denser  with 
the  odor  of  the  reeking  inhabitants  of  the  slums, — 
Portuguese,  negroes,  half-castes  of  various  types  and 
Brazilians,  with  a larger  portion  of  Italians,  who  make 
up  three  fourths  of  the  population  of  the  great  city. 
It  was  a bit  of  diversion  for  them  all  and  yet  they 
were  orderly  enough,  save  that  some  moleques  amus- 
ed- themselves  for  a time  by  making  huge,  thick  pan- 
cakes of  the  abundant  sticky  red  clay  of  a neighbor- 
ing vacant  lot,  and  slapping  them  down  on  the  side- 
walk, after  punching  a depression  in  the  center  with 
their  knuckles,  whereupon  they  would  burst  with  a 
loud  report  like  a miniature  cannon-shot. 

By  the  time  Horacio  was  ready  to  speak,  every- 
thing had  quieted  down,  save  a child  or  two  in  arms, 
in  the  audience ; and  that  was  a small  matter.  The 
young  man  was  blue  and  disappointed.  He  stepped 
before  his  audience  to  complete  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble a somewhat  perfunctory  task,  yet  so  strange  is 
the  network  of  wires  and  currents  that  control  our 
human  coil  that,  of  a sudden,  he  felt  such  an  inspi- 
ration as  had  never  been  given  him  before. 


The  Minister 


283 


He  was  speaking  of  the  Pearl  of  Great  Price,  and, 
as  he  spoke,  the  Pearl  went  up  in  value.  A realizing 
sense  of  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  parable  swept 
over  him.  His  little  talk  was  not  an  excoriation  of 
Rome  and  priestly  craft : it  was  not  an  exposition  of 
what  little  he  knew  of  doctrine  : it  was  not  a long 
string  of  the  biggest  and  highest-sounding  words  he 
could  put  together  to  make  anything  like  sense  : it 
was  simply  a sketch  of  man  in  his  lost  estate,  in  his 
poverty  and  wretchedness,  in  his  sin  and  degradation, 
in  his  squalor  and  suffering;  and  then,  between  his 
thumb  and  forefinger,  he  held  up  the  Pearl  before 
them  and,  as  he  gazed  on  it,  and  his  impassioned 
words  flowed  on,  his  audience  gazed  too,  and  here 
and  there  an  eye,  bedimmed  with  sin  and  vicious 
living,  perceived  its  gleaming  luster  and  coveted  it. 

Suddenly  he  paused  and  felt  that  sharp  reaction 
which  often  comes  at  such  a time.  A half-sigh  came 
from  the  listeners  and  they  sank  back  in  their  seats 
from  their  strained  attention. 

“ Let  us  sing,  in  closing,  number  two  hundred  and 
thirty-five : ‘ Oh,  say,  will  you  go  to  the  Eden  on 
high  ? ’ Now,  my  friends,  my  brothers ! I am  only 
a poor  sinning,  suffering  one  like  yourselves,  but 
Christ  has  preciously  redeemed  His  word  and  brought 
me  out  of  bondage.  Can  I help  you  ? Will  you  let 
me  ? Do  you  want  help  ? Perhaps  my  stumbling 
steps  have  learned  a bit  of  the  road  and  I may  help 
you  with  a hand  or  with  a word.  After  singing  this 
hymn,  our  little  meeting  will  be  closed,  but  I want 
to  talk  with  those  who  care  to  talk  with  me.  If  you 


284 


Horacio 


have  a question  to  ask,  please  stop  with  us  and  ask 
it.  Now,  let  us  sing!” 

Many  lingered  for  a moment  as  the  crowd  went 
out,  but  feared  their  companions’  ridicule  and  went 
on  their  ways.  Although  so  many  had  shown  interest, 
only  two  remained  behind,  and  one  of  these  was  in- 
toxicated, and,  leaning  against  the  wall  in  a corner, 
slept  heavily.  A pang  shot  through  the  young  man’s 
heart  as  he  shook  the  hand  of  the  young  German, 
who  had  just  closed  his  organ  and  was  departing, 
and  then  he  turned  to  the  sole  enquirer. 

He  was  a man  of  thirty-five  or  thirty-eight  years, 
upon  whose  face  and  figure  vice  had  left  its  unmis- 
takable imprint.  He  watched  Horacio  slyly,  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye.  Where  had  that  furtive  look 
crossed  his  before  ? He  could  not  recall  where  he 
had  seen  the  man,  but  he  dropped  into  the  seat  be- 
side him  and  took  his  hand. 

“Well,  my  friend,”  he  asked,  dejectedly,  “what  can 
I do  for  you  ? ” He  expected  to  hear  a request 
for  money. 

“ Don’t  you  know  me  ? ” asked  the  man,  cautiously. 

“ Seems  to  me  I have  seen  you  before,  but  I can’t 
remember  where,”  replied  the  student. 

“ Well,  it  don’t  matter.  I met  you  once.” 

“Where  was  it?  Tell  me  about  it.” 

“ I want  to  know  what  is  this  business  about  the 
Pearl,”  said  the  man,  ignoring  the  question.  “There 
aint  much  poetry  in  me,  you  know,  and  I don’t  take 
much  stock  in  this  sort  of  thing : in  fact,  I don’t 
know  as  I care,  anyhow— I was  just  curious — that  is, 


The  Minister 


285 


I wanted  to  know ” 

Horacio  heaved  a sigh.  “ I thought  I made  it 
plain  enough ” he  was  saying,  when  his  compan- 

ion interrupted  him. 

“That’s  true  for  you.  You  were  plain  enough. 
The  trouble  is,  there  aint  anything  to  hitch  to.  Where 
do  I begin?  You  don’t  for  a moment  fancy  that  I 
am  very  well  contented,  this  way?”  and  he  waved 
his  hands  over  his  shabby  clothes  and  general  wretch- 
edness, with  an  air  of  disdain.  “ You  were  talking 
of  things  that  were  different — of  things  that  I have 
dreamed  about  but  never  knew.  I’ve  heard  this  sort 
of  talk  before,  I have,  but  I never  took  no  stock  in 
it.  Now — I know  there  is  something  in  it!  Look 
at  me,  and  look  at  you  ! You  don’t  remember  me?  ” 

“ No,”  repeated  Horacio,  his  interest  becoming  a- 
roused,  “ I don’t  succeed  in  placing  you.” 

“Well — I left  you  in  jail,  at  Jahu,  without  a vin- 
tem,  while  I skipped  out  with  a pocketful,  and  it  was 
all  yours.  Do  you  remember,  now  ?” 

“ Thiago  ! ” cried  the  student,  in  amazement.  “ I re- 
member now.  You  broke  jail,  at  Jahu,  with  the  rest. 
Shake  hands  again,  now  that  I know  you ! ” 

The  jail-bird  drew  his  hands  away.  “ No,”  he  said, 
“ you  won’t  want  to  shake  hands  when  I tell  you. 
You  may  call  the  police,  if  you  want.  It  was  I that 
took  your  money  from  under  your  pillow,  that  night, 
and  I kept  every  vintem — six  hundred  milreis  — and 
precious  little  good  it  ever  did  me,  for  I gambled  it 
all  away,  the  next  day.” 

“ Never  mind  the  money,”  said  Horacio,  stifling  a 


286 


Horacio 


sigh,  “ what  we  want  now  is  to  straighten  out  this 
other  matter.  I had  nearly  forgotten  the  money.” 

“You  must  have  struck  it  rich,  then,”  said  his  com- 
panion, eyeing  him  suspiciously. 

“ Oh,  no,”  protested  the  young  man,  smiling  as  he 
thought  of  the  actual  condition  of  his  finances,  “ far 
from  that ! I have  nothing.  In  fact,  it  is  only  by  the 
kindness  of  friends  that  I am  enabled  to.  study,  in 
order  that  I may  preach  the  Gospel.” 

“Then  you  hold  no  grudge?  You  forgive  me?” 

“ As  I hope  to  be  forgiven  ! Do  not  bother  about 
my  forgiveness,  but  get  right  with  God.  It  is  against 
Him  you  have  sinned.” 

The  man  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands.  Horacio 
waited  for  him  to  speak.  Suddenly,  he  groped  for 
his  hat  and  started  to  his  feet.  Horacio  touched  his 
arm  and  asked:  “ Thiago,-— sha’n’t  we  decide  this 
question  to-night?  It  does  not  always  keep  till  an- 
other day.  Jesus  Christ  stands  waiting,  and  saying : 
1 My  child,  give  me  thine  heart ! ’ ” 

Thiago  pulled  away  his  sleeve  impatiently  from  the 
restraining  hand  and  slipped  through  the  door,  with- 
out a word.  With  a sharp  twinge  of  disappointment, 
Horacio  blew  out  the  lights  and,  after  locking  the 
door,  walked  slowly  to  the  nearest  bond. 

The  following  day,  which  was  Sunday,  he  saw  the 
girls  at  church,  but  only  the  backs  of  their  heads. 
Anna  divided  his  attention  with  the  sermon,  but  he 
was  rewarded  with  no  answering  look.  The  next 
day  and  the  next  he  had  lessons  in  the  evening,  for 
he  was  now  doing  extra  work  again,  to  complete  his 


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course  as  soon  as  possible.  He  longed  to  be  at  work 
and  doing  what  he  could  to  cancel  his  debt — in  ser- 
vice, if  not  in  kind.  He  had  heard  it  said  that  none 
of  the  boys  had  ever  returned  a vintem  of  these  ad- 
vances, and,  although  they  were  not  expected  to  do 
so,  nevertheless  he  longed  for  the  opportunity. 

On  Wednesday  he  was  free,  at  last,  and,  feeling 
bound,  by  Miss  Holland’s  suggestion,  to  take  a com- 
panion, he  pulled  Plinio  away  from  his  books  and 
made  him  go  with  him.  To  his  great  discomfiture, 
he  found  that  it  was  the  regular  reception-night  at 
the  School  and  the  sitting-room  was  full  of  guests. 
Miss  Holland  greeted  the  young  men  cordially  and 
sent  for  Anna,  who  came  in  looking  very  demure  and 
unapproachable.  Horacio’s  cordial  hand  encountered 
a limp  one  and  froze  at  the  touch  of  it. 

“ Anna ! ” he  had  cried,  at  sight  of  her,  but  now 
sat  down  without  another  word.  Presently  he  found 
courage  again  and  went  on.  “ Dost  thou  not  wish 
to  hear  about  the  folks  ? ” 

“ Oh,  yes, — tell  me  ! ” replied  the  girl,  with  a quick 
gleam  of  interest. 

“Donna  Anna  — you  are  from  the  same  place  as 
your  cousin,  are  you  not  ? ” interrupted  Miss  Holland, 
placidly,  as  she  sat  down  near  them,  to  help  them 
feel  at  ease. 

“ We  are  not  cousins,”  replied  the  girl,  somewhat 
tartly. 

“Not  cousins!”  exclaimed  the  lady,  in  genuine  as- 
tonishment. “Why,  dear  me!  — surely  I understood 
Senhor  Horacio,  in  his  letter,  to  say  that  you  were 


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cousins,”  and  she  groped  for  her  glasses  and  felt  in 
her  lap,  as  if  for  the  letter  in  question ; then  content- 
ed herself  with  her  handkerchief,  which  she  found 
lying  there,  and  folded  her  hands  again. 

“We  were  brought  up  together,  as  cousins,”  Ho- 
racio explained.  “ She  was  the  step-daughter  of  my 
uncle,  and,  when  he  died,  she  came  to  live  with  us.” 

“ But,  I thought  you  had  lost  your  parents.” 

“ I was  impressed  into  the  army,  and,  when  I re- 
turned, after  nearly  four  years,  they  were  gone.  I 
was  told  they  were  dead.  I only  found  them  again 
the  day  I sent  Anna  here.” 

“Ah, — now  I understand.  What  is  it,  Effie  ? ” — to 
someone  who  leaned  over  her  shoulder  and  whisper- 
ed. “Yes,  yes,  I will  go.  Excuse  me,  please,”  and 
the  good  lady  hurried  away. 

Anna  turned  to  Horacio  and  asked : “ Are  they 
well?  Where  are  they?  How  did  they  get  away  ? ” 

He  laughed.  “ First, — they  are  well.  Second, — 
they  are  on  the  old  place  where  we  used  to  live  to- 
gether. Third, — they  ran  away.  What  else?” 

“ And  Sor  Andre  ? ” ejaculated  the  girl,  as  though 
fearing  that  he  might  yet  come  to  trouble  her. 

“ He  is  nursing  a broken  leg  and  has  probably  for- 
gotten thee  by  now.  He  thinks  that  thou  art  dead.” 

“ He  thinks  that  I am  dead  ? ” 

“Yes, — why  not?  He  saw  thee  floating  down  the 
river  on  Bonito,  and  gave  thee  up  for  lost.  Not  on- 
ly that,  but  he  reported  thy  death  to  us  and  I knew 
no  better  until  I saw  thee,  last  Friday;  for  I have 
been  to  the  other  church  every  Sunday  since  I re- 


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turned  from  the  sertao.” 

Anna  shot  a quick  glance  at  him  and  flushed  at 
some  hidden  thought.  A thin  film  of  ice  seemed  to 
melt  away  from  between  them,  under  the  influence 
of  that  warm  blush. 

“ I was  just  about  to  write  to  Sor  Francisco,  to 
promise  to  reimburse  him  for  the  horse — for  Bonito. 
Is  he  still  alive  ? ” 

“ What ! — didst  thou  not  return  by  way  of  Jahu  ? ” 
she  exclaimed.  Horacio’s  heart  glowed  at  the  return 
to  the  “ thou  ”.  “ Didst  thou  not  see  Sor  Francisco  ? ” 

“No, — I returned  by  Lengoes.  So  the  horse  is 
still  alive,  also  ? ” 

“ Yes,  the  horse  is  well,”  and  she  briefly  recounted 
the  story  of  her  marvellous  escape.  Horacio’s  eyes 
glistened,  but  he  did  not  interrupt  her.  When  she 
had  finished,  he  told  of  their  own  adventures,  and 
concluded  by  saying  : “ I wanted  to  come  and  see  thee 
on  Saturday,  but  could  not,  for  I was  obliged  to  go 
to  the  mission  service  in  the  Braz.  I have  much  more 
to  say  to  thee,  but  they  are  going  now  and  I sup- 
pose I must  go  also.” 

“Wait  until  tea  is  served.  Thou  dost  not  need  to 
go.  The  rest  are  going  for  some  other  reason  : I 
think  they  have  something  else  on  hand.” 

Horacio’s  heart  grew  warm  at  the  invitation.  He 
looked  across  at  Plinio.  Plinio  was  evidently  pre- 
paring to  go  with  the  others. 

“ There  is  a magic-lantern  entertainment  at  the 
church,”  he  explained.  Horacio  had  altogether  for- 
gotten it,  but  he  remembered  when  he  was  reminded. 


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“You  go  along,”  he  urged.  “I  must  stay  and  talk 
business  with  my  cousin.” 

“You  don’t  mind  my  leaving  you,  then?”  asked 
his  companion.  “ All  right ! I’ll  go,”  and  he  hurried 
after  the  others. 

“ Well,  well ! We  are  quite  deserted,”  said  Miss 
Holland,  plaintively.  “ You  are  going  to  stay,  Senhor 
Horacio  ? Then  I’ll  send  for  the  tea  and  we  can  have 
it  all  to  ourselves,”  and  she  stepped  to  the  door. 

“ Anna ! ” cried  Horacio,  when  she  had  disappeared 
in  the  dining-room,  “ I cannot  talk  to  thee  as  one  can 
talk  in  the  sertao.  Thou  art  not  the  same  Anna.  I 
am  afraid  of  thee.  Tell  me,  art  thou — —contented 
here,  at  the  School  ? ” 

Now  this  was  not  at  all  what  Horacio  had  meant 
to  say,  but  his  courage  failed  him.  Anna  pursed  her 
lips  dubiously.  “I  was  about  to  ask  thee  to  let  me 
go  home,”  she  said,  but  with  a mischievous  twinkle 
in  her  eye. 

“ Let — thee — go— home  ? And  what  will  become  of 
thy  schooling,  and — of — me  ? ” 

“I  think  thou  canst  take  care  of  thyself,”  she  an- 
swered, laughing  gently  to  herself,  “ and  they  must 
need  me  at  home.” 

“Need  thee!  Nonsense!  There  are  two  strapping 
girls  to  help  in  the  house,  and  they  do  not  need  thee 
a bit.  Besides,  they  think  that  thou  art  drowned 
and  have  already  forgotten  thee.” 

This  last  was  a bit  of  teasing,  but  it  hurt.  A tear 
quivered  under  the  long  lashes : Horacio  saw  it  and 
was  crushed. 


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291 


“ Oh,  Anna,  forgive  me  ! I was  joking.  How  could 
they — how  could  anyone  forget  thee  ? ” 

The  girl  looked  thoughtful.  Miss  Holland  was  still 
busy  about  the  tea  and  had  not  reappeared. 

“Thou  seest ” she  began,  and  hesitated.  After 

a little  moment  she  continued  : “ Thou  seest — I do  not 
like — I cannot — oh,  how  can  I say  it  ? — I ought  not 
to  accept  this  help  from  thee.’’ 

Horacio’s  heart  sank.  “ Why  didst  thou  not  think 
of  that  before  coming  here,  in  the  first  place  ? This 
did  not  come  to  thine  head  the  other  day,  there  in 
the  forest.  Wast  thou  only  afraid  of  Sor  Andre?” 

She  looked  at  him  out  of  a corner  of  her  eye  and 
he  was  filled  with  dismay  and  even  remorse,  although 
he  felt  that  somehow  he  was  being  ill-used. 

“ Wilt  thou  not  accept  that  little  from  a — cousin — 
a— a— brother  ? ” he  asked,  and  saw  that  he  had  made 
bad  worse,  although  he  did  not  know  why. 

“That  is  what  thou  saidst  when  thou  sentest  me 
here,”  she  almost  whispered,  with  a queer  little  gasp, 
between  a laugh  and  a sob. 

“ What  wouldst  thou  have  me  say,  perverse  girl  ? 
If  thou  wilt  not  accept  from  a brother  or  a cousin, 
from  whom,  then,  wilt  thou  accept?  Anna — thou 
dost  not  mean -?  Am  I stupid  or  only  a fool?” 

His  old  comrade  glanced  up  at  him  with  a look 
that  was  made  up  of  mischief,  amusement,  pity  and 
a trace  of  doubt,  but,  as  he  caught  her  eye,  both 
sprang  to  their  feet  as  if  moved  by  a common  im- 
pulse. The  sight  that  greeted  Miss  Holland’s  per- 
turbed vision,  as  she  pushed  open  the  door,  with  the 


292 


Horacio 


tea-tray  a moment  later,  was  enough  to  spoil  the  rep- 
utation of  a double  dozen  of  girls’  schools. 

“ Tut,  tut ! What  is  this  ? ” she  cried,  somewhat 
sternly. 

“ Oh,  Miss  Holland,  we  are  awfully  sorry,  but  we 
have  had  no  other  chance,”  exclaimed  Horacio,  with 
an  embarrassed  laugh.  “ I have  not  seen  her  for  years, 
and  never  can  find  her  alone ; and  now  all  our  mud- 
dled affairs  are  straightened  out  at  last  and  she  is 
going  to  be  my  wife  some  day.  Please  forgive  us  ! ” 

“ Well, — it  is  pretty  bad.  What  will  our  neighbors 
say,  who  may  be  looking  in  our  windows  from  a- 
cross  the  street  ? A young  man  making  love  to  one 
of  our  girls ! Fie  ! Why,  it  would  empty  our  school 
in  a week.  And  with  reason  ! ” 

“Oh,  we  shan’t  do  it  any  more.  Anna  will  stay 
with  you  until  I have  finished  my  work  at  the  Sem- 
inary, and  then  she  will  be  a preacher’s  wife.” 

“Very  well!  But,  meanwhile,  she  is  a school-girl, 
and  I shall  see  that  she  has  at  least  two  chaperons 
when  you  are  near.  I am  horrified ! ” and  she  smil- 
ed amiably.  “Now,  come, — our  tea  is  getting  cold.” 

Horacio  gave  a mock  groan  and  then  laughed.  “ I 
am  not  afraid  of  you,”  he  said,  “ and  if  you  will  not 
be  too  hard  on  us,  I promise  to  be  good.” 

She  shook  her  head  grimly  at  them  both,  and  pass- 
ed them  tea  and  cake.  When  they  had  eaten,  the 
young  man  shook  hands  and  departed. 

After  he  had  gone  the  elder  woman  slipped  an  arm 
about  the  younger  one’s  waist  and  whispered  in  her 
ear : “ Did  you  think  that  I was  long  about  the  tea, 


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293 


my  dear  ? The  servant  might  have  brought  it,  you 
know.  Oh,  by  the  way,” — gazing  about  the  room  in 
well-feigned  surprise  ; “I  wonder  if  it  was  I that  pull- 
ed the  curtains  down  ! This  is  quite  unusual.  Deary 
me ! I am  getting  very  absent-minded.” 

Anna  blushed  and  her  companion  took  her  face 
between  her  hands  and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks. 

“ Now,  run  along  to  bed,  my  dear,  and  dream  sweet 
dreams  ! ” she  said,  and  pushed  her  playfully  from  her. 


Horacio  heard  nothing  further  of  Thiago  until  a 
month  had  passed  by.  He  was  fast  getting  to  the 
last  extremity  for  funds  with  which  to  continue  his 
course,  when,  one  day  as  he  passed  out  of  church, 
the  Italian  who  preached  in  that  language  in  the  little 
mission  in  the  Braz,  handed  him  an  envelope  with 
his  name  written  across  the  face. 

“A  decent  sort  of  a fellow  asked  your  full  name 
last  night  at  the  Mission,  and  handed  me  this,  to  give 
to  you,”  he  said. 

Horacio  opened  the  envelope  wonderingly  and  found 
a morsel  of  paper  and  three  notes  of  ten  milreis  each. 
On  the  bit  of  paper  was  written  : 

“ Thiago  wishes  to  get  square  with  you  before  he 
gets  square  with  Him.  30$000,  on  account.” 

The  following  Saturday  evening  he  attended  the 
service  at  the  Mission,  but  the  man  was  not  there. 
The  next  week  he  remained  away  and  the  Italian  re- 


294 


Horacio 


ported  that  Thiago  had  been  present.  Evidently  strat- 
egy would  have  to  be  used.  The  next  Saturday  Ho- 
racio waited  until  the  service  was  half  completed  and 
then  slipped  in  quietly  and  sat  down  near  the  door. 
He  at  once  saw,  with  great  satisfaction,  that  he  had 
penned  the  ex-convict  into  a corner.  When  the  meet- 
ing was  over  he  moved  along  the  bench  and  shook 
hands  with  him. 

“ Why  do  you  avoid  me,  friend  Thiago  ? ” he  ask- 
ed. The  man  laughed  nervously  and  hung  his  head. 
Horacio  suspected  that  he  feared  to  trust  his  own 
strength,  and  added,  hastily : “ How  is  the  soul  ? I 
see  that  the  body  is  in  better  shape.  ” 

Thiago  looked  up.  “ I am  working  now  for  the 
“ Light  and  Power  ”,  as  motorman  on  a bond.  I want 
to  pay  you  back  what  I owe  you,  but  I can  only  send 
you  a little  money  every  month.  Have  patience  and 
I will  make  it  all  right ! Then  I’ll  feel  better  about 
hunting  the  Pearl.” 

“Thiago,— you  are  right  about  paying  the  money, 
and  it  will  enable  me  to  complete  my  education,  but 
I should  prefer  to  lose  it  all  rather  than  have  you 
delay  the  other  matter.  By  paying  the  money  you 
cannot  make  yourself  one  whit  more  fit  for  the  King- 
dom. You  can  never  be  fit  for  that!  Only  Christ 
is  worthy,  and  you  must  come  just  as  you  are  and 
attend  to  the  other  matters  afterwards.  Do  you  un- 
derstand ? ” 

The  man  looked  disappointed.  “ I thought  that  He 
would  be  better  satisfied,”  he  muttered. 

“Ay,  that  is  true,  but  He  wants  you  just  as  you 


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295 


are,  and  all  these  other  things  you  can  do  for  love 
of  Him,  afterwards.  ‘ By  grace  are  ye  saved,  through 
faith,  and  that  not  of  yourselves.  Not  of  works,  lest 
any  man  should  boast.’  That  is  what  the  Apostle 
Paul  says.  Don’t  you  see  it  ? ” 

“ So  I can  come  just  as  I am  ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“And  supposing  I do  not  pay  the  money,  after- 
ward ? ” with  a momentary  return  of  his  old  sly  look. 

“ That  is  for  you  to  settle  with  Him.  I have  no 
fear  for  my  money,”  he  added,  with  a smile. 

“ I did  not  understand  that  it  was  free,”  objected 
the  man  ; “ I thought  that  the  Pearl  must  be  bought.” 

“So  it  must  be.  You  must  give  up  all  that  you 
have — man’s  only  independent  possession — your  will.” 

“ Then  I give  it ! ” exclaimed  Thiago,  joyfully.  “ I 
understand  now,  I think.” 

“ Let  us  pray ! ” whispered  Horacio,  with  emotion, 
and  the  two  ex-convicts  dropped  on  their  knees  to- 
gether, in  the  quiet  of  the  dingy  little  room. 


296 


Horacio 


Epilogue 

Three  years  after  the  conversion  of  Thiago,  num- 
bers of  country-people  might  have  been  seen  gath- 
ering one  Sunday  morning  from  far  and  wide,  from 
sitio  and  fazenda,  scattered  leagues  apart  in  the  edge 
of  the  sertao.  Some  came  on  foot  and  some  on 
horseback,  but  all  converged  toward  a little  clearing, 
near  the  boundary  of  the  property  of  Horacio’s  father. 

In  the  center  of  this  clearing  stood  a little  brick 
church,  in  whose  shadow,  upon  a long  bench,  sat  a 
dozen  mothers  nursing  their  babes,  that  they  might 
be  silent  during  the  service  about  to  take  place.  In- 
side the  building  rude  benches  occupied  the  central 
space  ; a table  neatly  covered  with  a linen  cloth  stood 
at  the  farther  end,  and  a wee  organ — the  gift  of  an 
American  friend  — was  placed  in  the  corner  near  it. 

At  the  table  sat  Horacio  and  at  the  organ,  a dainty 
little  woman  whose  large  dark  eyes  rested  lovingly 
upon  the  figure  at  the  desk,  awaiting  the  signal  for 
the  Doxology.  In  a moment  the  young  man  nodded, 
the  organ  sounded  and  the  row  of  mothers  filed  into 
the  church  with  the  babes  at  their  breasts.  The 
little  congregation  arose  and  sang  with  pious  fervor : 

“ A Deus,  Supremo  Bemfeitor, 

Anjos  e homens  dem  louvor: 

A Deus  o Filho,  a Deus  o Pae, 

E ao  Espirito,  gloria  dae.” 


Epilogue 


297 


While  these  simple  people  worship,  let  us  look  far- 
ther. Down  by  the  creek,  at  the  edge  of  the  clear- 
ing, a great  bare  patch  of  rugged  and  scarred  ground 
and  piles  of  over-burnt  and  under-burnt  brick  and 
tiles  mark  the  spot  where  Horacio  and  a couple  of 
his  parishioners  found  material  for  construction.  Some 
of  the  fazendeiros  provided  the  wood  for  the  timbers 
and  shaped  them  at  their  mills.  The  young  Minister 
himself  did  the  chief  part  of  the  work  on  the  edifice. 
His  salary  is  one  hundred  milreis  a month,  and  even 
that  is  hard  to  collect,  although  it  is  only  twenty-five 
dollars  of  American  money. 

Besides  the  little  congregation,  which  we  have  seen, 
he  has  a trimestral  itinerary  to  cover,  which  includes 
some  twenty  groups  of  believers  and  carries  him  fifty 
leagues  from  home.  From  these  people  he  receives 
a small  additional  stipend. 

A little  cottage  near  the  church  is  his  home,  and 
is  dearer  because  his  hands  have  fashioned  it,  but 
dearest  by  far  because  of  the  great  loving  eyes  that 
are  the  light  of  it. 

In  a stable,  behind  the  cottage,  stands  an  old  horse, 
a present  from  Sor  Francisco  da  Gama  dos  Santos, 
who  is  now  a stalwart  supporter  of  the  little  church 
in  Jahu.  The  horse  is  old,  but  still  has  plenty  of 
joyful  vigor  for  the  sober  service  of  the  Minister,  and 
bears  him  whither  his  duty  calls  him,  through  the 
sertao.  We  know  the  horse  and  love  him  as  well 
as  he  knows  and  loves  his  master  and  mistress. 

Over  the  mantel,  in  the  little  sala,  hangs  Horacio’s 
rifle,  and  its  days  of  service  are  no  more  ended  than 


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Horacio 


are  Bonito’s.  The  hunter  has  become  a “fisher  ”,  but 
he  has  not  ceased  to  be  a hunter. 

At  the  door  of  a little  cabin,  not  far  from  the  cot- 
tage, any  other  day  than  Sunday,  an  old  man  may  be 
seen  turning  and  twisting  a long  black  rope  of  “ nig- 
ger-head ”,  or  reading  from  a great  brass-clasped 
book.  The  “ nigger-head  ” is  not  for  the  market  but 
for  his  own  faithful  and  malodorous  cachimbo.  His 
aged  and  devoted  helpmeet  is  either  busied  over  at 
the  Minister’s  or  is,  perhaps,  beating  fleeces  into  felt 
for  saddle-blankets  with  a heavy  maul.  A week’s 
labor  and  an  uncertain  market  may  give  her  a profit 
of  five  milreis,  which  goes  to  the  Seminary  fund. 
She  has  enough  for  herself  without  it,  but  means  to 
enjoy  this  last  luxury  of  labor  through  her  declining 
years  or  as  long  as  her  sinewy  old  arms  can  lift 
the  maul. 

Old  Jose  Capitao  and  his  “ woman  ” are  compan- 
ions for  Donna  Anna  during  Horacio’s  frequent  ab- 
sences, and  will  never  know  a want  as  long  as  he 
can  fill  it. 

And  what  of  Alfredo  ? Not  long  after  the  Presby- 
tery dropped  him,  in  despair,  he  secured  employment 
selling  tickets  for  the  “Jogo  do  Bicho  ”,  that  terrible 
animal-lottery  which  is  the  curse  of  Brazil. 

Sor  Andre  is  no  longer  the  terror  of  his  neighbor- 
hood. A less  scrupulous  opponent  wiped  him  out  a- 
bout  a year  after  he  had  recovered  from  his  broken 
leg.  The  little  farm  which  Horacio  saved  for  his 
father,  has  lately  been  sold  at  a fair  price,  and  the 
money  has  gone  to  pay  for  a bit  of  schooling  for 


299 


Epilogue 


Eugenia  and  Luiza.  Horacio  is  tutoring  his  brothers 
when  he  has  leisure.  The  little  fazenda  has  prosper- 
ed and  his  father  insists  on  paying  for  the  tuition. 

Upon  the  roll  of  members  of  the  little  church  the 
names  of  all  the  de  Castros  figure  among  the  first- 
fruits  of  Horacio’s  labors. 

One  of  the  Elders  of  the  little  church  is  called 
Thiago,  for  he  has  become  a small  fazendeiro,  after 
faithfully  discharging  his  debt  and  pulling  his  friend 
through  the  rest  of  his  course,  without  further  help 
from  the  Presbytery. 

At  the  last,  when  Horacio  graduated,  Thiago  made 
a final  payment  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  milreis, 
which  went  to  purchase  a long  black  coat  for  the 
Minister  of  the  Sertao. 


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